Touch and Go
by Scruff the Rat
Summary: Helga gets more than she's bargained for when her plan to keep an eye on Arnold's "little brother" gets a few hiccups...but the results aren't quite what she expected...
1. The News

**I don't own Hey Arnold! I only own the non-canon characters!**

* * *

'_Steady. Aim…'_

FOOP!

A freshly chewed spit wad made a perfect hit on its target: the back of a football—shaped head with unruly yellow hair and a tiny blue baseball hat.

'_Bull's-eye…'_

Direct hit…as usual…

Right on cue, the owner of the oddly-shaped noggin shifted around in his seat swiftly to glare calmly but irritably at the blonde offender in pigtails.

The aforementioned offender hissed in seeming annoyance,

"What?"

The oddly head-shaped youth shook his head in silent exasperation at the blonde girl's antics before redirecting his attention to the teacher.

'_Oh __**Arnold**__, you twit,'_ scoffed the blonde female mentally, 'y_ou lovable, yet impossibly dense twit! If only there was a better way in which I could reveal my gooey, mushy passion for you, my love.'_

Yep, typical day…

Well, _almost_ typical…

"Class," chirped Mr. Simmons, a deceptively young man whose balding hair belied his youthful enthusiasm. "I'd like for everyone to meet a new, special face, today."

Everyone's voices hushed immediately at the word 'new.'

A new face...?

Huh, interesting— the fourth grade class hadn't had any newcomers lately.

'_Wonder what poor stooge got stuck with us this time,'_ mused the Pataki girl amusedly.

Just as long as the "fresh meat" was nothing like little Miss Perfect…

Otherwise Helga G. Pataki was in for more irritation than before.

She had no idea how wrong she was.

"I'd like to you all introduce to—"

* * *

**If I annoyed you guys with this short chapter, then my mission is accomplished! X)**


	2. A Promise

**That's right, folks! Two chapters in one day! I still don't own Hey Arnold! Dang it! :(**

* * *

"I can't believe it. Arnold's little brother…in our _class_room? And a second-grader, no less…! Why, this is simply unheard of!"

"While I'm quite sure there's a logical explanation for his transference to our grade, Rhonda, I must admit…his appearance in our classroom_ is_ quite astounding."

The current conversation was taking place in the school cafeteria. The whole place was filled with students hustling and bustling to sit down in order to eat, socialize, goof around, or do whatever the heck kids do when out of a classroom's authoritative atmosphere.

Right now, Helga and Phoebe were sitting at their usual table. This time, however, they were in the company of Rhonda Wellington Lloyd, the rich (and snobbish) self-proclaimed fashion diva of P.S. 118, and other girls from Mr. Simmons's fourth grade class.

Unsurprisingly, the main topic of conversation was none other than the new kid himself.

Speaking of which, Helga, for the second time that day, took a nonchalant glance at her new "classmate."

He was currently seated between Arnold and Gerald (surprise, surprise) and seemed to be uttering a few words to Sid and Stinky. Whatever the little guy said, the two goofballs seemed to be in stitches about it if their hysterical crowing was any indication.

The blonde Pataki girl had to raise half her unibrow as she recalled the newcomer's name.

'_Milo Mahana, huh? Well, I'll give the little shrimp points for alliteration at least. '_

Funny, though... some part of her deep, deep down made her feel as if she should've found him familiar.

'_Criminy, what am I thinking?'_

What _was_ she thinking? She didn't even know of the kid's existence until this morning.

Anyway, what was it Simmons said about Milo again?

"_**Milo, you see, is a young man with great, great potential, just like all of you!" Simmons exclaimed with a gesturing sweep that indicated the entire class.**_

"_**But, it turns out that because of this potential, Principal Wartz was concerned that Milo wasn't being challenged enough in his original grade."**_

Wasn't being 'challenged' enough?

Okay, seriously, how could Helga _not _smirk in amusement?

She dared a more thorough, scrutinizing look at the boy with unruly, black hair.

Short—the kid was really short.

Doi…

He was rather dark-skinned as well—about the same skin tone as Gerald, in fact, albeit a bit darker.

The boy's clothing wasn't anything special—a basic blue T-shirt with a diagonal red stripe, dark brown shoes, and khaki shorts.

However, the one detail about the little guy that really caught Helga's attention was the dingy sketchbook he was carrying under his right arm.

'_Huh… doesn't look like the kind of kid who could give ol' Pheebs competition.'_

Then again, Helga once thought the same thing about Lila…as did the rest of her classmates.

Speaking of which…

"So what do you girls think? Should we just let him figure things out on his own or take him under our wing?"

"Gosh, I don't think the second one's such a good idea, Rhonda. Remember the last time we did something like that?" piped up local nature girl Sheena mildly.

"I'm afraid I must concur with Sheena. In fact, Milo seems to faring quite well so far," Phoebe, the school brainiac, added matter-of-factly.

"Oh relax! We're not going to swarm over the kid like we did Lila," Rhonda assured her peers condescendingly with an eye-roll, "I'm just suggesting that we give the kid some pointers…just in case he might need some for a rainy day."

"Welp, good luck with that little endeavor princess!"

With those words stated, Helga proceeded, in her own usual charge-ahead flair, to rise from her chair and then gravitated away from the table.

Rhonda arose from her seat, affronted (in a dignified way, of course).

"Um, _excuse_ me, Helga, but just where do you think you're going?"

"Doi… I'm getting some milk so I've got something to wash down my meal…. What does it look like?"

Rhonda, at the very least, became miffed at the blonde's flippant answer...

"Helga! Are you telling me you aren't even the least bit concerned or at least interested about—"

The Pataki girl's voice cut through Rhonda's question like a rifle shot through a target.

"Hey, don't forget, princess! The shrimp is _Arnoldo's_ younger brother. If Mr. Goody Two Shoes can handle all of _us_ on a daily basis…"

As if on cue, a noise from the boys' table caught the attention of the majority of students in the cafeteria (including the attention of Helga and her lady peers).

Apparently, Harold, being the bright boy that he was, had unfortunately chosen the moment he was chugging down milk, of all times, to guffaw gutturally at whatever he just found comical.

The end result…

Twin spouts of white liquid from Pink Boy's nose, a spectacle that wasn't too dissimilar from the process that occurs with a certain part of cow anatomy…

Poor boy had to bang his own chest and cough to get the creamy liquid out...

Everybody in the cafeteria—from the students to even the cafeteria ladies—went up in hysterics.

…except Arnold, who simply chuckled, and Milo, who slightly grinned amusedly before returning his eyes to his food.

'_My point proven…'_, Helga mentally concluded smugly.

"Then one little kid should be a walk in the park for him," Helga continued, explaining as if the matter was a simple division problem. "Besides, for all we know, the kid might be some carbon-copy of the ol' Football-Head."

Just like a Pataki death glare, that last statement evaporated the entertained mood above her table.

All of a sudden, somebody cleared their throat. Helga shifted her eyes to the source: her best friend. All the other girls seated focused their attention to the Japanese-American girl as well.

"Helga," Phoebe spoke up, placing the tips of her fingers together in a respectful but meditative manner," don't you think you're being rather presumptuous? Yes, perhaps Milo may be influenced by Arnold _a tad_ but-"

"But he could be a great kid with a charming and unique personality, yadda, yadda, yadda! Look, Pheebs, as far as _I'm _concerned, as long Helga G. Pataki and the half-pint stay out of each other's way, it's all business as usual. And that's that."

Helga even snapped her fingers on the final sentence as she stomped away.

'_Oh Helga...,' _Phoebe dejectedly thought.

That girl could be so stubborn.

"Hmph, just ignore her, girls! Now where were we again?"

Wherever the conversation went after Rhonda's words, Helga would never know.

She didn't really care anyway.

In fact, as soon as she was sure she was out of earshot of her female peers, Helga quickened her pace (just a bit—there were still potential witnesses after all) across the cafeteria towards, not the lunch line, but the cafeteria _doors_.

The moment she emerged into the vacant expanse of the hallways, Helga removed from the confines of her white undershirt a golden, heart-shaped locket.

A picture of a smiling, half-lidded Arnold gazed tranquilly back at the blonde holder, who, now free of the wandering eyes and ears of her peers (for the moment), proceeded with the following monologue:

"Oh, Arnold…Arnold...! Why must fate be so cruel? Is it not satisfied by the fact that we both must suffer eternally—you with your loving heart and noble though slightly misguided sense of reality…and I with my tender sense of compassion, buried deep within by my most petty of childhood fears?"

Taking a momentary pause in her soliloquy, Helga let out another girlish swoon.

"But no…now…now there sits one of your kin, a silent but knowledgeable observer who knows not yet of the cruelties hidden behind our peers' smiles and laughter. A young spirit whose silence no doubt belies something wonderful yet far beyond the meek understanding of our foolish associates…"

Suddenly, Helga drew a glare—ah, but not a glare of anger.

No, this glare was of determination.

"Worry not, my love! Though you are, no doubt, entitled as this boy's guardian, I shall ease thy burden…by blessing this child with kindness and understanding. Never shall my accursed pride or temper do injury to this soul. On this vow, my beloved, I do by vow. Forever and alwa—"

**Wheeze…wheeze…wheeze**

'_Oh joy, __**this**__ again.'_

And right before the last word…seriously?

Turning her head in annoyance, Helga glared behind herself to see none other than Brainy, wheezing and grinning weirdly like he does every day.

"Uh, hi...Helga" greeted the asthmatic with an awkward wave.

Oh well…

'_As usual…,'_mused Helga indifferently as she turned her back on him.

Up went Ol'Betsy…

Down went Brainy on the cold, unforgiving hallway floor…again…

'_Sheesh,' _Helga exclaimed in her thought as she stomped away from the scene, her eyes focused at the body lying prone on the floor, '_you'd think he would've at least waited a few more seconds to let me fin—'_

**BOOM!**

"OOF!"

All of a sudden, Helga, just like Brainy, found herself prostrate on the floor, her body sore from the impact she just inadvertently received.

"Are you alright!"

Almost on instinct, she raised herself and opened her eyes to see none other than...

"Arnold!"

Who was indeed kneeling on the ground on knee and staring at her in surprise.

"I mean, sheesh, Football Head! Is bumping into me an obsession of yours or some—"

But then the blonde girl's eyes widened the moment they finally noticed _other_ details.

For example, Arnold _was_ in front of her, but he wasn't the one on the ground, nursing a bump on his head.

That honor went to Milo.

* * *

**Review please!**


	3. Surprise!

**I don't own Hey Arnold! Seriously, how many times do I have to say this?**

* * *

Indeed, the diminutive, newly dubbed "fourth-grader" was deeply rubbing his forehead. Both eyes were squinted in discomfort as their owner nursed the aching bump on his tiny cranium.

"I'm sorry, Helga! I shouldn't have distracted him like that!" cried out the football headed boy in genuine concern. His golden-toned hand lay on Milo's shoulder as the two boys' friend, Gerald Johanssen, kneeled down to their level.

"Hey, Mi! You okay, man?" The African-American "Keeper of the Tales", too, sounded rather concerned for the younger child.

The sepia-toned boy simply turned to Gerald soundlessly and nodded.

"Good! Cause he won't be when I'm through with him!"

Several gasps popped out from the observers, filling in the hallway now that lunch had concluded, that surrounded Arnold, Gerald, Milo, and Helga. No one had expected for the little guy to invoke the iron-fisted queen's wrath already, at least not on his first day!

Instinctively, Arnold and Gerald positioned themselves in front of the smaller schoolboy. There was _no way_ in Helen Keller they were going to let _Helga_, of all people, lay a finger on Arnold's younger brother!

Said blonde, however, finding Arnold and Gerald's actions almost laughable, merely rolled her eyes before narrowing their fiery focus on the youngster who stood behind the two older boys.

For some odd reason, though, he looked more curious and confused than apprehensive.

'_Looks like what this shrimp needs then was a good ol' case of Pataki fury...'_ P.S. 118's iron-fisted queen mused. _'Man, I'm going to hate my guts after this!'_

So without further ado, aiming a finger at Milo, Helga barked out,

"Alright, shrimp, listen up and listen well, cuz I'm only gonna say this once. Never—I repeat— **never** get in my way like that!" shouted the blonde, her mighty voice echoing off the walls of the halls like a shout in the Grand Canyon.

"**Ever**…Got it?"

Hey, if Helga G. Pataki was going to make an impression on the newcomer of her class, she might as well make a strong one.

Arnold and Gerald, however, took great offense to Helga's words, but especially Arnold. Oh yeah, he could accept the daily bluster and rage _he_ received from the girl himself. This time, however, all that bluster and rage was targeting Milo, and the last outcome Arnold preferred was his younger sibling getting terrified on his first day in the fourth grade.

Now standing up to Helga was _no_ simple task—that much was certain—of course, standing up to difficult tasks was just another one of Arnold's specialties.

"Helga, Milo didn't mean to walk into you like that. It just was an accident," P.S. 118's peacemaker, palms up and feet taking a step forward, calmly explained to the irascible blonde in front of him, but to no avail.

"Oh, spare me, Arnoldo!" acidly scoffed the Pataki girl with an eye roll, "Heck, I oughta be slugging _both_ of you right now! You're the one who's looking after the kid for cripes' sake!"

"Football Head," to Milo's credit, did not back down. In fact, his hands now akimbo to his waist, he stood boldly but righteously, a wall of unshakeable caring resolve against a raging tempest.

'_Stubborn geekbait as usual, I see... Oh my beloved...If only you knew how much doing this pains me...'_

Indeed, branding Milo with the same brutality as with Arnold practically tore up the girl's insides... very, very much. Unfortunately, the risks of being nice to the little guy imposed the same consequences as did showing affection towards the apple of her eye (or anyone for that matter, but especially her charming little apple).

"Helga...Listen. What I'm just trying to say is—"

"Sorry."

"Huh?" the two blondes and Gerald, eyes wide, uttered confusingly and in unison, all three rather taken back by the words just spoken by this boy. Even the audience went dead silent at the boy's word.

To the surprise of the three older youths, there was no trace of emotion to the kid's countenance.

Milo wasn't even _glaring_ at Helga. Even _Arnold_ usually was more expressive than this boy.

'_Man, the least this kid could is __**look **__sad,' _mused the Pataki girl in perplexity.

The seven-year old simply shrugged his shoulders before saying "sorry" once more.

"Nobody actually got hurt, but I'm still apologizing. It's only right...right?"

Taken rather back by the boy's frank tone, Helga, shaking her head vigorously, effectively snapped herself out of her shock before, not wishing to lose face, fashioning a smug smirk at Arnold and Gerald and positioning her hands akimbo to _her_ _own_ hips.

"See, boys? Day's barely over and he knows the drill already. I suggest following his example, Arnoldo."

"Whatever you say, Helga." This time, _Arnold_ was the one to do an eye roll. Immediately after his reply had been uttered, Arnold felt a finger jab his chest sharply.

"Exactly, bucko, whatever _I_ say. Now move it already!"

Offering a half-lidded look but still stepping off to the side with Gerald and Milo, Arnold only crossed his arms, his face the epitome of calm.

Deep down, on the other hand, told a different story. His nerves still steamed a bit inside at Helga Pataki's treatment of the younger child.

'_Milo deserves better than that and Helga knows it. She could at least lighten up on him.'_

"You should try Cherry Monkey Bunch Cake," a familiar voice interrupted, cutting off Arnold's contemplation.

Arnold, Gerald, and Helga, the last of whom froze in mid-step, once again turned to the younger boy in absolute perplexity.

"Cherry Monkey Bunch Cake," the brown-toned boy repeated casually, a hand in his pocket and his sketchbook in the other,"...you should try it. I hear it's really good at lifting people's spirits up."

'…_Uh?'_ became the sole occupant of both Arnold's and Gerald's thoughts at the moment.

Helga, _'Okay...that was random.'_

Yet young Milo continued his words regardless of his peers' reactions. "My Mom even told me that if you share it with someone you care about, all the secrets in your life, even the deepest, darkest ones, come flying right off your chest."

_Deepest, darkest secrets_...like one girl's passion for a certain flaxen-haired angel...

Everyone else, aside from Arnold and Helga, only wondered if this boy had completely lost his mind.

A baffled Rhonda, _'__What__ is he __**talking about**__?'_

A stunned Stinky, _'I reckon Milo dun lost it.'_

An exasperated Gerald, _'All right, that's it. This kid has __got__ to lay off the anime.'_ (1)

Arnold wondered what his little brother was up to (if he was up to anything at all). Of course, being the dense fellow that he was, the optimist couldn't quite fathom what Milo could be up to that'd involve Helga Pataki of all people.

'_I just hope he doesn't try to get back at her or anything. He's already on a bad start with her as it is.'_

And Helga?

She wondered if her heart might explode!

'_He—but how much...Oh criminy, who __**is**__ this kid?'_

Who in the world could already pick up so much about a person from just one chance meeting? Well yeah, Helga was worrying herself over somebody two years younger than her and less than half her height...

But what he just said...oh man, there's no way those words were said out of a whim!

Ironically enough, this same boy snapped the blonde girl out of her shocked state by pulling out something from his tiny azure backpack and modestly voicing,

"You dropped this on the bus earlier by the way."

Her science book...There it was, perched in Milo's pudgy fingers like a chocolate bar calling Helga's name.

Insecurity struck the blonde female in waves as memories of near humiliation and panic-struck apprehension threatened to drown her confidence.

She did not need a repeat of that "lost diary" episode.

Quickly reverting back to full-on rage before anyone could pick up on her strange change in demeanor, Helga snatched the book out of the boy's hand, snapping,

"Gimme that! Next time, keep that kid on a leash, Football Head, SHEESH!"

Arnold gave a half-lidded glare to the Pataki girl, who didn't even flinch a quarter of an inch. Gerald, on the other hand, gritted his teeth in a nearly vain effort to keep a low-sounding grumble from turning into a catty reply as his best friend's personal tormentor roughly pushed her way past the three boys.

Sure enough, Milo neither glared nor grumbled but rather raised an eyebrow at the blonde girl's display of aggression.

"Off day for her, you think?" he asked his brother and Gerald quietly yet curiously.

Gerald merely shook his head, deciding not to comment on the boy's apparent innocence. "Trust me...that girl's _always_ on an off day."

* * *

Later at the end of the school day, on the far side of the school, away from wandering eyes...

The same frantic blonde paced endlessly, berating herself all the while, her defensive façade long gone.

"AHH! What is wrong with me? It's bad enough I gave the kid one of my patented death glares. Oh no, though, Helga G. Pataki! You didn't want to stop there, did you? You just had to treat the kid like crud!"

With those words spoken, she drew out her locket once more, half-expecting the Arnold in the picture to be frowning at her instead of beaming that usual laid-back smile.

Even though he didn't, the rotten feeling still persisted.

"Oh Arnold...Arnold! How could I have allowed my repression of my innermost feelings for you to warp my better judgment towards your dear sibling? How could I be so callous? How could I be so judgmental towards his good will and intentions? Forgive me not, my muse. Do not waste your mercy upon this wretched wench, this wench that dares to shatter not only your good, Samaritan beliefs, but **as well as the oath she has so promptly desecrate**—"

**SLAP!**

That sound came from the contact of Helga's own hand colliding with the side of her cheek...**hard**. Regardless, the action snapped the girl out of her soliloquy-style rant rather well.

"Whoa, whoa, get yourself together, Helga, old girl!" She drew a deep breath, willing her being to regain self-control—a successful effort, even though her internal tension still persisted.

"Alright, look, you said you'd only ease up the teasing on the kid. You never anything about being this kid's angel and showering affection on him like a doting mother would to her pride and joy."

Helga's eyelids suddenly flew open at the last couple of words.

'_Although that's not a bad idea for a poem...'_ Helga, slightly impressed with herself, mused with a small grin.

Keeping up with that tiny bout of inspiration, Helga pulled out of one of her pockets a little blue notebook (same color as Arnold's shirt and hat of course) with a yellow pencil contained in the notebook's spiral spine. Flipping to an empty, white page, Helga took the pencil out of the spine and wrote down a few words to remember those last couple of words.

Hey, being a poet meant being prepared for unexpected ideas.

After finishing her jotting and placing the notebook and pencil back where they were previously, the tomboy stroked her chin and continued her pacing more slowly as she continued where she left off with her thoughts concerning Milo.

'_Now then... there's got to be a way I can keep an eye on the squirt without blowing my cover. He's definitely the type who knows a lot more then he lets on, maybe even more than Football Head himself. Especially if he looked inside that book and can see past my charade now...'_

And if that cake comment was any indication, well...Helga would just need to keep a close eye on that Mahana boy.

"The last thing I need is making an enemy out of that shrimp_._"

Easier said than done, though...

Coming up with the plan would be simple. The _execution_ of said plan would be the difficult part.

"Just need a little ingenuity, Helga, old girl. And maybe some elbow grease while you're at it..."

At least if some stealth would be needed...

All of sudden, a distant sound abruptly snapped the blonde out of her contemplation, prompting her, to look around in confusion at her current environment and seek out the source of the indistinct noise.

A voice...accented too...

'_Wait a sec, don't I recognize that accent?'_

Then, after peeking out from behind the building, she saw him.

A tall Asian man with a thin moustache and wavy black hair was at the other end of the sidewalk. Dressed in a dark blue jacket, sky blue button up shirt, white shoes, and long khaki pants, he seemed a bit nervous, twiddling his thick thumbs as he kept these subtle glances towards the school entrance from which all the children scampered out to freedom. From the Pataki girl's vantage point, the man seemed to be mumbling something to no one in particular.

If Helga didn't know any better, she'd sworn he was waiting for somebody.

She was right on the money because Milo, Arnold, and Gerald stepped out of the school, strolled right across the street and came to a stop beside the lanky fellow. The man, whose frown had transformed into a smile the moment he saw the boys and had now kneeled down to be at eye level with the tiniest of the trio, and Milo performed a most peculiar greeting.

Both of them each brought their hands together in a fashion that could've easily have made cylinders. Then their fingers began moving vertically in rhythmic patterns .From an observer's perspective, the man and the boy would've looked like they were playing pretend mini-trumpets in their hands.

All of a sudden, the two males separated their hands and held them far out to the sides, almost if they were about to hug each other.

Actually, what they did instead was quickly clasp their hands together and then that corny hand wave Helga had seen on some of those tacky dance shows Olga forced her to watch sometimes.

What did they call those gestures? Jazz hands..?

Honestly, throughout her short life, Helga had seen people do some weird actions (even if she_ is_ one to talk), but those two seemed to just take the cake.

She could only shake her head in cynical disbelief as Arnold and Gerald, unlike their unseen observer, both chuckled at the man and Milo's antics.

'_Man, is everybody in that boardinghouse a grade-A nutcase?'_

* * *

Helga stepped inside through the front door, closing it shut with a noisy bang.

"I'm home!" she called out loudly, muttering shortly after, "Not that _that_ amounts to a hill of beans..."

"Pipe down, Olga! I'm watching the Wheel!" shouted a boorish and baritone voice from the living room. "Ah mother humper, that ain't no prize, ya maroon. That's a god damn rip-off!"

Rolling her eyes, the pigtailed girl stomped upstairs to her room, her practical sanctuary, the door to where she was about to enter...at least until—

"Oh Helga!"

That chirpy (not to mention cringe worthy) voice could only belong to one person...and unfortunately that very person was skipping right down the hallway to her "baby sister" right this moment.

The thought of _'When the heck did __**she**__ get here?'_ couldn't help running through the dumbstruck mind of the younger Pataki girl as the award-winning Olga enveloped her in a nearly bone-crushing hug.

Nobody ever told her Miss Perfect would be here today!

'_Then again, surprise, surprise...I could write a book on the things Bob and Miriam never tell me,' _Helga sarcastically had commented in her mind right before two shockingly strong arms constricted her.

"There you are, silly!" Releasing her grip on the struggling and increasingly oxygen deprived nine-year old, Olga held Helga at arm's length with a dazzling smile. "Oh, I've been looking all over for you, silly! I need somebody to help Mommy and I make dinner."

Helga, who had been a bit busy rubbing her arms in order to get the feeling back into them after managing to brush her overly mushy sister off her, raised an eyebrow at her in expectant annoyance.

'_Oh brother...'_

'Oh brother,' no kidding...Helga G. Pataki had better things to do than run errands like a miniature housewife.

"Gee, really, sis? Well gosh, Olga, that's just swell!" Helga cheerfully faked with a smile and a swung fist. "Oh, but you know what? I've got, uh, a school project I need to get a head start on."

With those words said, the younger girl shrugged her shoulders in feigned disappointment and proceeded once more to walk into her room.

"Ah well, there's always next time, right?"

A dainty but shockingly firm finger planted itself upon Helga's cranium, grabbing the blonde's attention and halting her progress.

"Not so fast, young lady, I've made this dinner special just for you, and I, for one, do not intend to let my younger sibling miss out on this wonderful day!"

Was Helga hearing things...or did Olga sound more chipper than usual— if such a condition could even be _possible_?

"And why," Helga inquired cautiously and slowly as her one eyebrow raised up in suspicion," dare I ask, is this day so 'wonderful'?"

This young tomboy, much to her chagrin, only received for an answer a bubbly giggle from Olga, a light tap on the nose (at which point Helga had tried to swat away her elder sibling's hand), and the following answer:

"You'll see, baby sister."

Before Helga could even ask about the enigmatic significance of those words, Olga, in her typical sunshine girl fashion, merrily skipped away, humming a cheery tune. The older girl probably even thought she had just made her sibling very cheerful about the surprise.

Her baby sister felt **anything** but cheerful. Actually, she merely sighed forlornly as her eyes rolled in tired irritation. Knowing that sister of hers, Helga had a strong feeling she wasn't going to like what that woman had in store for her.

'_Why do I feel like she should've just set me up for my own execution instead?'_

* * *

"Oh hi, Helga, honey, back from school already?"

At hearing _those_ words upon entering the kitchen, the Pataki girl could only give the woman in purple, seated in a chair right in front of her younger daughter, the usual half-lidded glare.

"I've been back since _two hours ago_, Miriam," replied Helga drolly.

"Oh, good!" exclaimed Miriam airily.

'_Why do I __**even**__ bother?'_ Helga sighed mentally with another eye roll.

A grinning Bob pointed a thick finger at the empty seat that had somehow ended up right next to Helga. "Ah, there she is! About time, girl! Now sit that keister of yours down. Your sister's got something **big** planned."

Hold on, Miriam actually looked... somber...and were she and Bob... _smiling_? Helga wouldn't admit this but...she kind of felt creeped out right now. Those grins on her parents' faces looked _way _too happy to be either comforting _or_ normal.

'_Something tells me I should just walk away right now. In fact...'_

Too late for that decision...Before Helga could even blink, something knocked her right off her feet, only to have her land butt-first on it instead of the floor. Olga had just slipped a chair right under her sister, and was now scooting the chair up to the table.

All of this happened in only two seconds.

"Oh wait," the elder sibling exclaimed, clapping her hands daintily, "this occasion calls for something special. Wait right here, everyone!"

Everyone watched Olga as she pranced her way out of the kitchen like an overly perky fairy princess.

The youngest of the Patakis, slouched back in her chair and arms crossed, rolled her eyes once more at the absurdity of the people surrounding her.

'_Special? Olga, everything you __**do**__ is special. Heck, Miriam and Bob even consider the fact that you __**breathe **__special! How much more __**special **__could you possibly __**get**__ anyway?'_

Upon realizing the frequency of a particular 's' word in her mind, Helga quickly but vigorously shook her head to rid herself of the slightly stunned expression that came about at the end of her train of thought.

'_I'd...better cut off that thought now. I'm starting to sound like Simmons.'_

Still, what the heck was _with _this family all of a sudden? Unless there was some benefit guaranteed for them, these guys, at least Bob and Miriam (but especially Bob), never usually spent some much affection on their younger member unless...

An assumed epiphany made Helga scrunch her eyebrow in unspoken but defiant outrage.

'_Hmph, well I know one thing. Helga G. Pataki is __**not**__ going to be another pawn in the beeper king's self-glorification or __**Ol**__ga's mission to shower the planet with rainbows and unicorns, that's for sure.'_

"Hey, hey, hey!" snapped the voice of Big Bob Pataki, the voice of whom snapped his daughter out of her sarcastic reverie and brought her scathing attention in his direction.

"Don't' go throwing that look around, little lady! Your sister's got something worthwhile planned for you, so I better start seeing some gratitude over there, capiche?"

"Yeah, yeah, don't get your arteries in a knot."

'_Not that they already are...'_ the pigtailed rebel added internally to herself with a subtle smirk.

Before long, though, Olga returned to the kitchen, except this time she had a huge, silver stereo cradled in her arms. On top of the sound system was something that seemed to be a CD case.

Helga could not believe her widened eyes.

'_You've __**got**__ to be kidding me.'_

Stereo seated neatly on the table, Olga, with her delicate fingers, removed the CD from its case, pressed a button on the stereo, and inserted the disc into the now open slot of the sound system.

Much to Helga's disbelief (and maybe even utter embarrassment), the cacophony of an orchestra filled the living room, the trumpets sounding off the climax with a deafening roar before let their voices descend into silence. From that point on, soft classical music dominated the room's atmosphere.

"Now then, I, Olga G. Pataki, have very exciting news! Do you all recall the 'Big Sis, Little Sis' program from last month?"

'_How could I forget?'_ Helga groaned inwardly, facepalming as she scowled very darkly at the memory.

That problematic program had been a double curse in disguise! Oh yeah, it took Olga out of Helga's hair (or so the younger sibling had assumed at the time) but then it paired her up with _Li_-la, of all people!

Hang on! If that program and Helga were related, though, then—

'_Oh no...,' _thought a shocked Helga in desperation, '..._For the love of Sigmund Freud, please no...'_

Despite of her ever escalating terror, Helga still managed to ask her sister in a deceptively calm voice, "So...uh, you signed me up for it then, eh, Olga?"

On second thought, execution sounded better and better. A little brother or sister...? That idea meant all sorts of complications for the young blonde. First of all, dragging around some little squirt all day would _not_ do wonders for Helga G. Pataki's reputation. Unless the kid was part wolverine, the iron-fisted queen of P.S. 118 was in for a planet-sized headache!

The last thing Helga needed was a mini-Lila following her around.

Second—and most vital of all—who knew how much of a nosy parker the kid that Helga would get stuck with was...especially if the brat came too close to a particular secret...one involving a certain closet and a certain football-head...

'_What do I look like anyway—a piggyback ride? I've already got one little squirt to worry about. Helga Pataki __**doesn't**__ need another brat on her back!'_

"Actually, as wonderful as that idea sounds, Helga...," replied Olga, her usually perky voice soon adopting a saddened tone. "I'm afraid not. That program only accepts people 18 or older when choosing older siblings."

Oh, in that case, scratch the execution part...

'_Ha! Thought she had me there, didn't she? __**So**__ close, sis, but, hey, nice try anyway...'_

Maintaining the same false air of sincerity, Helga gave her sister a convincing look of sympathy.

"Oh gee, that's too bad, sis! Oh well, guess I'll just have to stick with being a baby sister, huh?"

"But that's just fine!" Uh oh, Olga was back to smiling again!

"Uh...It ...is?" And Helga was back to being terrified again, very taken aback at the sudden comeback of Olga's joviality.

'_Oh boy...'_

"Yep... because there's a program for people _under_ age 18! It's called the Sunny Smiles Siblings program and it's open to both boys _and _girls!"

The current moment that followed that "reassurance", at least in Helga's perspective, would pretty much parallel the part where some medieval guy is already set in the guillotine, the blade all raised and ready to decapitate.

"And...why?" The blonde dynamo immediately wished she hadn't asked.

"Well, I've done some serious thinking lately..." Olga began thoughtfully as she tapped her fingers together.

The blade finally began its descension...

"...and decided it's time you gain experience in what life's like when you have someone to share it with!"

Still the blade fell.

'_So, in other words, I'm...?'_ Helga shakily concluded with a gulp.

The blade sliced through the poor slob's throat—or rather Big Bob's words cut through Helga's sense of security.

"That's right, Olga! Your sister's just signed ya up to be a-"

* * *

**Wow, I really dramatized Olga, didn't I? XD **

**(1) That reference was supposed to be a reference to to the anime Bobobo-Bo-Bobobo! (Purple Monkey Horseshoe!-I'm serious. That phrase is an actual line from the show!) Yeah, I have some serious problems with my obssession over that show! XP**

**Don't forget to review!**


	4. Guess What? & Gameplans

**Don't forget to review!**

**All canon characters in this story belong to Craig Bartlett and Nickelodeon. The two songs used in here belong to their respective owners. I only own Bonnie and Milo.**

* * *

"Baby, I'm not too sure about this."

"Mr. Simmons said that the students participating don't _have_ to sign up... only if they want to."

"_Do_ you want to?"

"I think it sounds like it might be fun, to be honest!"

"Yeah...if you want to experience life as a human ox..."

"_Mom_..."

"Milo, it's enough that I let Wartz place you in the fourth grade. At least there are people there you're familiar with. For all we know, the person you get stuck with might be some..._ jackass _who thinks the whole world revolves around him."

Arnold honestly couldn't help flinching at Bonnie's words. No matter how used he's become to her cursing, the football-headed young man still had to cringe a bit at the woman's sharp tongue.

Right now, the current conversation that took place in the boardinghouse kitchen consisted of..."persuasive argument" between Bonnie, Milo's mother, and Milo himself. Mr. Hyunh, the boy's "guardian," and Arnold were simply bystanders for the moment. The dark-haired young woman had been pacing around the kitchen while the guys were seated at the dinner table.

To say the least, the boardinghouse's resident Polynesian felt livid.

Hoping to assuage the mother's anxieties, Arnold boldly stood up from his seat and added his own two cents.

"Listen, Ms. Mahana, if the older sibling that Milo receives _does_ turn out awful, you could just go back to Sunny Smiles to call the offer off. It's not like you had to pay for it in the first place."

"Arnold speaks the truth," Mr. Hyunh piped up with a supportive smile. "Also, the program requires that the parents of either participant be present. You could see Milo's new sibling firsthand and decide if your son is in good hands."

Bonnie's reply was a dry, deadpan stare. Her tone of voice was no different.

"Yiang, I really wish I could just go along with what you and Arnold are saying. Only one problem: this is _not_ a babysitter we're dealing with here. What I want to know, you guys, is whether there's any real point to Milo doing this. He already has a brother in Arnold and, hey, even Gerald. What difference is another older sibling going to make for him?"

That question did a bang up job of leaving all the males at the table speechless. What difference _would_ another role model for Milo make?

"I guess you're right," Milo eventually admitted, putting his head in his hands pensively. "Having an extra big brother or a new big sister does sound a bit redundant."

To the relief of all the two boys and Hyunh, Bonnie didn't smirk triumphantly to show she was pleased that her reasoning finally made its mark. She gave a relieved smile instead, that no argument were being brought up. She truly hated having fights with her family.

However, there also seemed to be a trace of sadness that popped up in her eyes the moment she saw her son's forlorn expression.

'_Oh, he looked so interested in this program. A part of me deep down really does want to see how things would turn out, but...I just don't want my baby...'_

...To get hurt?

Well, he wasn't getting any younger and the sooner he was used to pain and disappointments, the sooner he'd be ready for the real world, right?

'_Or maybe I'm just afraid of the changes that could happen if Milo __**is **__happy with his pretend sibling...there's no telling __**what**__ could happen.'_

All of a sudden though, the young single mother, finally registering Milo's last statement and to the confusion of her family members, twisted her face in genuine confusion and offered her only son a perplexed stare.

"Wait, back up a sec— Milo, where did you learn the word _"redundant"?_

All Milo offered back was an indifferent shrug.

"The dictionary...where else...? ...Still, I wouldn't have minded having some new company—kind of like new spices in Grandma's cooking. A little variety never hurt anybody, right?" he joked with a half-grin.

For the first time since the conversation began, the tense atmosphere seemed to experience a lift considerably thanks to the boy's playful words.

Arnold returned his little brother's expression in agreement (the kid _had_ made a rather interesting, if not factually valid, point). Mr. Hyunh chuckled fatherly before affectionately tousling Milo's unkempt black hair. Even Bonnie seemed to ease up a bit, a smile peeking out on her face despite of her rolling eyes.

'_Maybe Arnold and Yiang are right. Maybe I'm just being paranoid. Besides, my son's not exactly like all the other kiddos.'_

Granted being a single parent guaranteed ample space to worry about your only child, but limits were still limits.

Bonnie, "How about a deal then...? If you _really_ want to do this, Milo, just say so. We can go to the Sunny Smiles place right now if you want. Just know that if you _do _along with this, you're going to have to stick with whoever you get stuck with...**but** if worse _does_ come to worse, then we'll be there to get you out. Okay?"

A nodding Arnold, "There _are_ other ways for you to make friends anyway. I'm not saying Sunny Smiles is bad, just probably one of a dozen ways you could take."

"But Milo," all eyes shifted to Hyunh, who needed a few seconds at first to compose himself as to adjust to all the attention being directed to him at once.

Clearing his throat, the Vietnamese fellow continued a bit more confidently.

"It is your choice alone. We only wish to know you will be alright."

And so finally there came the decisive factor: Milo's_ own_ decision.

Even without leaning in, Arnold, Bonnie, and Mr. Hyunh still waited with bated breath the moment the child opened his lips.

"Hmm...Then in that case...I say..."

* * *

"**Oh for the love of—how the heck do you mess up something like this, Olga?"** thundered a rather indignant Big Bob as he and his family stepped back through their front door.

Meanwhile, Helga, who had been bringing up the rear, rolled her eyes at the antics of the man that was technically supposed to be her dad.

"Tsk, trust me, Bob," scoffed the pigtailed blonde with a trace of amusement, "It was easier than I thought."

The Patakis' time at the SSS, to say the least, had gotten unbearably ugly...and that was putting it _lightly_.

Long story short, every tyke that so much as peeked at Helga, who of which had been lingering around the waiting area as her parents and Olga completed the rest of the paperwork, ran for the hills (or at least back to their mommies and daddies) like the Banshee was at their heels! Not that they didn't have a good reason to escape in such a fright...because they did.

Actually, Helga couldn't deny a sense of pride at the fear she inspired in the hearts of those kids.

'_Good to know I've still got the edge' _was the thought that ran through the satisfied girl's mind.

"Now Daddy," the voice of Olga piped up meekly, jarring the younger blonde out of her thoughts. The young woman had a dainty hand on her father's hefty shoulder in an attempt to catch his attention. "I'm sure all the children just overreacted to Helga. You know how kids are."

Okay...ignoring_ that_ slightly backhanded comment, Helga turned towards the stairs to stomp all the way to her room (or at least anywhere to temporarily escape from her dysfunctional "family").

Bob would not have it. "Hold it there, little missy! Report that little keister to the trophy room **pronto**!"

Oh no, Helga would not concede to her father's wishes—not _this_ time!

'_I think it's about time SOMEBODY finally laid down the FACTS on Olga's latest scheme.'_

In fact, she instead pivoted her body and her head so her folks could see her deadpan expression in full view and, raising a finger and one hand akimbo, answered in a scathingly and mockingly cool tone,

"Bob...let's get one thing straight," she explained slowly at first, "...little kids and I—do—not— mix. _Very_ simple logic...Now if anybody needs me (_which we all know is __**definitely **__not gonna happen_) I'll be upstairs tending to my eardrums."

Thus, with these words spoken, Helga continued her ascent up the stairs, digging a finger in one of her ears as she did.

She hadn't been kidding about her eardrums. Some of the kids she scared off had wailed to the high heavens...and even broke a few windows without even touching them!

'_Criminy, were those brats born with megaphones lodged down their gullets?'_

* * *

'_Oh Helga... Why do you have to act so...so difficult sometimes?'_

Even in retrospect, Olga honestly believed the program would have done her baby sister some good. Aside from Phoebe, Helga didn't seem to have anyone to look after and support beyond herself.

Right now, Big Bob, still visibly irked by his younger child's failure and continued incompliance, was sitting in the living room once again, the television set to a blaring volume. Apparently, the man had hopes that the searing noise would stomp out any memories of today.

No such luck so far...

Miriam, meanwhile, more or less, seemed to have the same goal in mind, only her way involved smoothies of questionable content. In fact, the conked out woman was currently laid out on the kitchen floor, her snores conjuring up a storm.

Amazingly enough, Olga shook her head at only her sister's antics, not at the ludicrous scenes permeating the rest of her immediate family.

'_I do wish there was a way to fix this.'_

As if answering to Olga's thoughts, the hallway phone right next to her rung vibrantly, stopping the moment the young lady took the phone from its stand and answered in a convincingly perky voice.

"Hello, award-winning Olga G. Pataki speaking! How may I be of assistance?"

A few moments of silence overtook the hallway as the vibrant flaxen listened intently to the disembodied voice of the caller.

"No, I'm so sorry, ma'am," Olga finally responded with a glum frown, "I believe you're referring to my baby sister."

Once again, no sound save for the television and Miriam's snoring existed in the hallway...at until Olga's face lighted up like a neon light all of a sudden!

"Oh wait! Did you just say Sunny Smiles? Yes, my family and I were just there a while ago! Although I'm afraid we experienced some difficulties in finding a sibling for my baby sister."

The blonde's face soon adopted a rather inquisitive and curious expression of interest as the voice continued. She held the phone closer to her ear in response.

"Yes, I'm listening."

* * *

(**"Sunset Ceremony"** by David and Steve Gordon)

If what Bob and Miriam were doing were ludicrous, however, then their wayward second-born daughter's activities were on a whole higher level of weird!

Sealed deep within the confines of her own closet's attic, Helga, bowing before a soda-pop bottle replica of her beloved, had on makeshift robes constructed from old, colorful Inuit blankets Olga brought once from a trip to Alaska. The patterns truly lent themselves to the purpose of this ritual. In addition, upon the impassioned worshipper's head sat a feathered headdress unsurprisingly in the shape of Arnold's unique cranium.

"Oh my beloved," began Helga fervently, "how I must _scoff_ at times at the absurdity of the fools with whom I am forced to coexist! Believing they could influence _fate_ to their very whim—by pairing me with a child of unfathomable ignorance, no less!"

The pious girl merely shook her head in disdain before proceeding with her confession.

"No, Arnold, such is not what fate itself intends. Nay, what I see instead is the mission fate has obligated to me. And I will, so as long as I still draw breath, see to that said mission is fulfilled as selflessly and kindly as you wish, my love!"

With no more to be said in the silence of her holy altar, the young woman, still enveloped in her holistic passion, bowed once more in reverence before the ersatz replication of her muse.

And then a hand rose to reach a switch...

...the lights went off...

And back on to reveal Helga G. Pataki once more, this time back in her normal clothes, the ceremonial dressing and headdress already cast aside, ahem, ceremoniously.

**(Music ends with a scratching sound)**

"Okay, now that that's over...time to get down to business!" Helga clapped her hands briskly before pacing around the attic floor.

She hummed a bit in deep thought.

"Hmm...Alright, so it was right before school let out yesterday when I finally got my science book from Squirt. Question is: did he see anything at all in that book? And if yes, then how much of the beans did he spill out?"

She could probably blackmail him (_Nah...Too little evidence...)._ What about threats? Would those work? (_A good safety measure—yes...an actual plan—not so much...)_

Perhaps taking him off to the side for a little "chat" in her "office" would do the trick. _(Nah, with Arnold and Tall-Hair Boy as his official bodyguards, I might as well be trying to have a nice little chat with the President)._

There just _had_ to be a way... but _what_?

'_Think, Helga, think! There's __**gotta**__ be some way to get that kid away from those yahoos! 'Too bad __**he**__ didn't sign up for that cockamamie program. Otherwise, I'd actually have a reason to __**thank**__ Olga for once.'_

_Thank_ Olga...? Okay, seriously, Helga just had to stop for a moment and chuckle a bit at the thought of_ that_.

Anyway, there was also the question of how to go about the interrogation...which Helga never got the chance to ponder on...

"Oh baby sister! Could you come out here for a moment, please?"

Of all the—lashing out in anger would probably complicate matters so Helga replied in the most sincerely sweet sounding voice she could muster up.

"Coming, Big Sis! "

Welp...time to see what the "Sister of the Year" wanted her for..._again_.

"And it better be good, Poppins!" Helga muttered grumpily under her breath.

So without further ado, Helga stomped her way back to the floor entrance of the attic, lifted the door, raised down the ladder that lay next to said entrance, and proceeded to climb down...

But not until after taking in one last glimpse of the replicated visage of her love, already cloaked by the shadows...

"Until the dark of night, my love..."

* * *

"Oh Helga, there you are! O, I have such very exciting news!"

Helga resisted the urge to roll her eyes and simply gave her ridiculously optimistic sister the same old, same old scowl.

'_Oh, what now? A chance for me to donate my organs for unfortunate orphans in another unfortunate country that unfortunate little me has never heard of in her short years of unfortunate existen—'_

Wait a sec, did Olga seem...serious? Wait, yes, indeed the countenance Olga had none of the usual perk but instead a solemn frown. Helga's sarcastic thinking ceased right in its tracks at the sight as Olga knelt down to be one eye level with her.

"Now, baby sister, before you say anything let me just tell you that the challenge before you is not a simple one. I should know after all."

'_Sheesh, she's still going on about __**that**__?'_ the younger blonde griped internally.

Oh yeah right, like Helga had been actually _begging_ to be in the program from the start!

"Hey, I'm signed up, anyway, aren't I?"_ (Not that anyone bothered to ask me in the first place—Geez!)_

Besides, as far those chumps at the 'Sunny Smiles' joint were concerned, the irascible blonde made a lousy older sibling anyway, so sorry to disappoint your astronomically high expectations, Bob.

Unfortunately, Olga, her eyes closed, hand clasped as if in prayer, and back now facing Helga, just kept going.

"—therefore I strongly believe that you, as my baby sister and a fellow Pataki, has more than what it takes to be an outstanding, loving, caring, noble, considerate, nurturing—"

Okay, enough with the list already!

"While we're still alive, Olga! _What_ are you trying to _say_?" the nine-year old shouted, throwing her arms in the air in exasperation!

Wrong choice of words...

Without warning, Olga released a high-pitched squeal that forced her poor baby sister to cover her own ears in agony. And she thought those brats back at the triple-S were loud!

To make matters even worse, Helga, for the second time that day, suddenly found herself in another vice grip that felt even stronger than the last one.

"It worked! Oh Helga, it actually worked!"

Air...Air! This poor child needed air!

Thankfully, the psychotic woman finally loosened her grip on Helga after a few seconds, allowing the pigtailed girl to regain precious oxygen. However, she still held the child at arm's length, that irritatingly sunshine smile never leaving her face.

"WHAT are you talking about?" an irate Helga asked demandingly after her respiratory recovery.

"Why, the Sunny Smiles Siblings, of course, silly! Oh this is so wonderful!"

...

Uh...did she, by any chance, drink something in one of Miriam's smoothies? On second thought, scratch that thought. If that _had_ been the case, not only would she have had besmirched her "perfect record", she also wouldn't have been looking more freakishly perky than usual.

Even so though..._'Where the heck __**was**__ this chick in the last 3 hours?'_

Verbally, Helga said nothing for few seconds, only raising her monobrow questioningly.

"Okay, sister, spill the beans!" Someone around here needed answers and needed them now! Pulling away from Olga's grip, Helga crossed her arms and fixed an intent glare at her older sibling.

"Did some kid get paired up with me or did the SSS finally decide to label Helga G. Pataki as a contamination hazard to the preschooler population?"

Olga, much to the fourth grader's ever increasing chagrin, merely giggled before continuing on.

"Oh Helga, you big silly, of course they found someone for you! And you'll never guess who signed up to be your little sibling either. It's—"

* * *

"Helga Pataki!"

Milo seriously had to do a double take on the scene before him.

Arnold, usually the epitome of chill and reason, had just leapt from his spot on the bed—the spot right next to Milo to be exact— to the top of his own shelf, which, to Milo's surprise, did not respond to the added weight of the nine-year old in the slightest!

'_Man, now that's one sturdy shelf!'_

Anyway, back to the matter at hand...

The football-headed wonder's face practically screamed: _'How the freak did __**that **__happen!'_ (Okay, granted, maybe Arnold wouldn't have said those words per say...but, in Milo's defense, they seemed like the most appropriate description for the older boy's wide-eyed look.)

All in all, this was a pretty out-of-character moment for Arnold.

So Milo had a very valid reason to stare, dumbfounded at his older sib as if he'd grown a third eye. He then shook his head before fixing Arnold with a face of disapproving disbelief. "_Dude_...really?"

'_Huh...Oh...right...,' _thought the initially confused but suddenly cognizant football-headed wonder with reddened cheeks as he lowered himself down from the shelf and back on his bed.

"Uh, sorry...," Arnold rubbed the back of his head sheepishly before turning his view back to Milo. "It's just...wow..."

The Hispanic/Polynesian mixed child looked away and nodded in thoughtful agreement.

"Yeah, I'll admit, Mom and I were pretty shocked, too."

Believable or not, Helga had been the only participant available. The lady at the counter, for some ridiculous reason and much to the bewilderment of Milo and Bonnie, had seemed a bit _too_ excited at the prospect of someone finally choosing the blonde fireball.

"Actually, Arnold..."

Oh boy...there was no mistaking _that_ smirk!

"I could make this work to my advantage." The younger boy's expression switched from a smirk to a reflective smile "There _are_ some issues I need to set straight with Helga after all."

Uh oh, Arnold had a bad feeling about this! Granted, our optimist here always had in the back of his mind consideration of the idea of Helga being a nice person deep beneath her usual bluster. She had even proved that consideration correct at times, rare as those times had been.

At the same time, though, he couldn't help but feel a sort of uneasiness at Milo's words about confronting the irascible dynamo. Believe it or not, Arnold had seen the torture Helga put the younger kids through...and it was nowhere near prettier than the heck she put her peers through.

'_I think I'm starting to get where Ms. Mahana was coming from.'_

Plus, just like Mr. Hyunh, Arnold had been there for Milo ever since the little guy's birth. As such, he truly felt scared for the scamp...nothing like a babysitter who'd simply get trouble with the parent (even if Bonnie _could_ be a frightening force whenever she felt her son was in trouble)...but rather in the same way as an actual, devoted brother would.

The Golden Wonder placed a finger to his chin as he mulled over the situation a bit more in his head.

'_Well...Milo __**might**__ be able to get her to open up. Even if he can't, at least I can convince Helga to go easy on him. She can be mean, but I know she can't be __**that**__ mean. Besides, all I want is for Milo and Helga to have a chance to patch things up after what happened today. They could be __**really **__good friends if they tried!'_

"Just try to be yourself," Arnold advised, turning to face the brown-toned tyke, the attentive green eyes of whom had been watching him ponder all the while.

"And if the two of you _do_ end up having problems, then just talk it out with her." With a supportive and honest smile, Arnold put a hand on Milo's shoulder before continuing.

After all, Helga could be a very logical person...just as long as she wasn't raving of course.

The gesture did not go unappreciated...as evidenced by Milo's grin. "Being myself—no problem...! Really think she'll listen, though?" The grin drooped a bit when during this question.

Regardless, Arnold gave Milo the same beam. "Trust me. I've tried before. It's hard at first, but when you really get down to it Helga's not all that bad. Besides, it _would _be nice if the two of you _did_ manage to iron things out. Just make sure to give Helga some space while you're around her, okay, Milo?"

The sepia-toned tyke gave a lighthearted scoff and a dismissing wave to the blonde's concern.

"Ah, you don't need to remind me of the chick's temper. I _am_ the one who got the full treatment right in the face, remember? Besides, it's like Mom said: I gotta stick with whoever I choose...and _I_ chose Helga! Now I can't exactly say _why_ I did (aside of course from the fact she was the only person left on the list) but...I got a good feeling about this. Just trust me, okay, Arn?"

His older brother could only nod throughout this mini-speech, the words practically taken right out of his mouth. However, a relieved smile had already appeared on Arnold's countenance by the end of Milo's admittance and full-hearted acceptance of the upcoming trial.

"Alright, Milo— Just remember that me, Bonnie, Mr. Hyunh and everyone else will close by just in case you need us, okay?"

A thumbs-up and an eye wink, both brimming with confidence—those were all Milo needed to cast away whatever lingering fear still lay in the football-headed young man's mind.

**HEYARNOLD!****HEYARNOLD!****HEYARNOLD!****HEYARNOLD!****HEYARNOLD!****HEYARNOLD!****HEYARNOLD!****HEYARNOLD!****HEYARNOLD!****HEYARNOLD!****HEYARNOLD**

* * *

Unbeknownst to the two brothers, however, Helga G. Pataki was having a pep talk of her very own...

(**"Helga's Shrine" **by Jim Lang)

"Oh my muse, my god of ecstasy, my lighthouse of hope in a dark, turbulent and chaotic world—never in my **wildest** fantasies of you, my love, had I ever imagined such a grand opportunity! Oh, if only, if only, you could comprehend the risk I must endeavor in accepting your younger sibling as my own."

...albeit a one-sided pep talk but still...

Yep, you guessed it! Helga, as promised, was once again bowing before her divine altar. This time, she had come in hopes of obtaining a sense of spiritual preparation in advance of the upcoming tribulation about to take place tomorrow.

"And perhaps— oh blessed heavens..." Helga gave off a girlish sigh before standing up twirling like an impassioned ballerina.

"Perhaps seeing how caring _I am_ towards the boy will make Arnold realize the heart that beats behind the bluster and rage that are simply illusions, a front to the true Helga G. Pataki!"

'_And oh man, I can't believe I'm saying this, but...__**thank you Olga—right from the bottom of my heart!'**_

Looks like Ms. Perfect was good for something after all!

'_But first things first...!'_

**(Music ends)**

Relieving herself of her ceremonial clothing, Helga G. Pataki, now in her purple nightgown, took the best course of action one can take when reviewing a game plan: talking to oneself.

"Just remember, Helga, old girl, the next day is going to be spent in Arnold's house. Just stay cool and do _not_ get mad! Don't scare the kid off. Ease him in with some easy conversation. That way, getting him to talk later on will be a snap! Heck, throw in a few casual questions just to be safe, too."

Exactly...! At that point, however, pulling off the interrogation would be out of the question.

First off, even from first glance, one could easily tell that Arnold and Milo were tighter than two papers glue-gunned together! As such, getting the two apart would have to wait until Milo came to Helga's house.

Second, there was no telling which of the adults at the Sunset Arms would recognize the blonde Pataki girl. She'd especially have to keep a close eye out for that Asian guy with the glasses. During that one time with the video cassette fiasco—Helga shook away the humiliation and awkwardness that episode had brought...especially in the end—that Asian guy—Mr. Hyunh right? — seemed kind of close to Milo...that is if the little sideshow Helga was treated to earlier today had been any indication.

A deeply thinking Helga snapped her chin-stroking fingers. "I'm gonna need some way to lay low without coming off as too suspicious."

Some place that none of the adults in the boardinghouse went to very often...some place where the ol' Football Head could have a front row seat to how sweet and nice Helga G. Pataki could truly be!

Well then the answer was simple...

Arnold's room, of course!

The only difficulty Helga would have to worry about is sticking to the plan.

'_Which should be an absolute __**snap**__!'_ the blonde poet pointed out smugly.

"Just—be—nice!"

Then Helga just stood there like a confident superheroine, hands akimbo, legs spaced evenly out, and a sure smirk on her face.

For the first few seconds that is...

The smirk disappeared as Helga abruptly spun on her heel, walked out of her closet (making sure to close the door behind her), went right up to her phone to pick it up, and then began dialing the phone number to a certain best friend of hers.

'_On the other hand, it doesn't hurt to have a little back-up...'_

* * *

**Sorry about the inconsistency in dividers. The edit system is such a pain sometimes. -_-**

**Don't forget to review!**


	5. Meet Milo Again

**I still only own Milo.**

**Chapter 5: Meet Milo...Again**

A doorbell's ring reverberated in the narrow hallways of the burgundy building, the Sunset Arms, the next day.

Arnold, having already returned with his little brother from school half an hour ago and just on the verge of going into the kitchen to find two Yahoo sodas, did not hesitate to walk right up to the door and open it.

Only to find none other than a certain Pataki on the other side...!

"Helga?"

Granted, Helga's arrival today had not been unexpected of course (Ms. Mahana had just informed everyone in the boardinghouse of the pigtailed blonde's upcoming visit yesterday)...Actually the real surprise for Arnold had come from how _early_ Helga had come. He had at least expected her at around 6:00 (what with homework and all—today _was_ a school day).

'_Oh well, at least Milo won't have to wait as long.'_

The poor thing had been antsy all morning. This wasn't to mean Milo was nervous—far from it! On the contrary, the young Mahana had been radiating excitement all morning! It was just pent-up energy, is all.

And the way that energy had been spent had been driving people crazy! Most of the adults in the Boarding House save for Mr. Hyunh, Gertie, and Bonnie had "filed" complaints of the kid messing around with the stuff in their rooms. Even Grandpa Phil had displayed signs of chagrin at Milo's incessant scampering and tinkering.

Arnold, in contrast, hadn't been annoyed at the slightest to be honest; in truth, _he_ had been the nervous one. After all, his own bully was (well _had_ been) coming to spend time with Milo, a little spirit with a temper and a smart tongue to match. The thought of such a personality clashing with that of Helga's was disconcerting at best.

Luckily, the girl of Arnold's thoughts broke him out of his worrywart rumination through her snarky tone and sharp voice.

"Hey, football-head, how's tricks? I'll just cut straight to the chase. Apparently due to some psychotic Mother Teresa phase my older sister's experiencing, it looks like I've landed a spot to play nanny for some kid named..."

Helga, who had, up until this point, had been fixing Arnold with a disinterested look, scrunched her monobrow and stroked her chin as if trying to her hardest to remember the name of her new "little sibling."

"Lilo Banana?" There was no mistaking the blonde female's slight wry smirk during her obviously intentional mix-up.

The arms- crossed, frowning Arnold standing in the doorway was not amused.

"_Milo Mahana_, Helga..."

His response fell on deaf ears as the addressed stomped her way inside and out of the golden sunlight and cool air of the spring afternoon, roughly pushed past him, and promptly marched right into the interior of the boardinghouse. As far as the football-headed young man was concerned, her temporary gaze-over of the place did not seem to guarantee a favorable opinion.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, the only reason I walked over here was because the stinkin' rules state that the older sib's the one that visits first. Sure, I could have blown that rule aside," Helga continued, waving a hand around dismissively, "but then again that would've meant another hour of lecture time with Ms. Perfect all because I _'went out of line.'_"

The pigtailed blonde did air quotes with her fingers as she spitted out the last four words with clear disdain.

Once again, the blonde female gave the part of the boardinghouse around her another look... only this time in search of a certain little kid.

"So where is the shrimp? You gotta have 'im stuffed up somewhere. Am I right, football head?" Helga joked, turning her head back to fix Arnold with another wry smirk.

Arnold's eyes only narrowed further. "_Helga_..."

The female blonde raised her monobrow in puzzlement initially at the response but then merely scoffed derisively. "Sheesh, grow a sense of humor, for crying out loud."

As usual, though, the young lady's sarcasm-flinging mouth only served as a front to her more concerned thoughts.

'_Criminy, old girl, could you__** get**__ any more difficult? Focus, Helga, you're supposed to be proving to Arnold how __**nice **__you are!'_

No such luck so far though...so it was time to take a different approach...one that would be awkward for the female blonde to go through, to say the least...but still necessary nevertheless...

Helga, her scowl beginning to wane—Arnold, if his curious and confused countenance was any indication, did _not_ overlook that changing detail—was just on the verge of giving a reluctant though heartfelt apology to the boy before a voice oddly mellow for a seven-year old sprung into the air.

"You hafta to admit, Arnold. That joke _was_ pretty funny!"

Arnold and Helga, the latter being subconsciously both frustrated at and thankful for the interruption, shifted their visions to the top of the stairs.

Sure enough, there stood Milo, donning a bright grin that, though not much different from the ones normally given by Arnold, held a strong trace of mischief and curiosity in those sparkling emerald eyes.

Stepping down the creaking, wooden stairs nonchalantly with one arm behind his back and the other out to the side—Helga couldn't help raising an eyebrow at the dull-silver monkey wrench swinging around via his pointer finger— the younger boy kept grinning coolly as he continued his quirky commentary.

"And true, too..."

A mental sigh sounded in Arnold's head. Sometimes the boy's casual manner knew no bounds. However...Arnold had to chuckle a bit and smile. He felt rather grateful that Milo had taken Helga's joke in stride rather than in retaliation.

'_The last thing these two need is a fight...especially after what happened yesterday.'_

Helga, much to the optimist's further gratitude, couldn't help smiling genuinely at the boy's light-hearted manner.

'_Y'know, I think I could get to like this kid a little bit,' _she mused before turning to Arnold with a smirk.

"Like I said, tyke knows the drill already," the pigtailed lover of sarcasm reminded the football-headed young man in a snarky manner once again. "...So, Tiny, what's there to do in this joint?"

However, when Helga looked at the spot at the bottom of the stairs at which Milo had stopped...

No Milo...

A wide –eyed Helga had to rigorously shake her head _twice_ and rub her pupils to convince herself of this sudden disappearance.

'_What the—Oh come on, barely ten seconds and I already lose him?—well okay me and __**Football Head**__ lose him, but still...! '_

Trying her best to utilize annoyance to cloak her panic, Helga snapped her head to Arnold, fixing him with a firm scowl that demanded answers immediately!

"Alright, Football Head, where did he go?"

"Huh...oh sorry, Helga! What were you saying?" Much to Helga's chagrin, he'd been looking off in a whole other direction rather than focusing his attention on the irascible female before him.

Predictably, the Pataki girl felt anything but amusement. She rolled her eyes before facepalming. _'Of all the times for this yutz to fly off on an all-expense paid trip to Daydream City...!'_

"_Mini-Shrimp_, Shrimp! Where the heck did the little squirt go off to?" Deep down, Helga had to cringe a bit at her own words. Right now, she was bombing quite spectacularly her one and only chance to reveal her true self to her beloved. Even so, though, underneath all the rage, the temperamental girl couldn't deny a bit of maternal worry for Milo. There was no telling whether the kid was poking around in some place he shouldn't be and here Arnoldo was daydreaming as if he couldn't care less where his own sibling was!

At the caustic tone and harsh words, Arnold regained the same distempered expression from prior, although this time there was a bit of hurt as well as brotherly concern that shone through his eyes. That look instantly made the Pataki girl lose the edge in her scowl.

"Helga, _please_ don't call him that. His name is Milo... and, if you're really serious and really _do_ want to get along with him, then at least _try _to be nice. All he wants is a chance to patch things up with you."

Words, for once, failed Helga...her face now laden with blank, expanded eyes and a small frown, all previous anger now dissipated.

"Patch things up, eh...?" The female blonde gazed off to the side pensively as she said these words.

A perplexed Arnold tilted his head to the side. _'Is she...okay?'_

"Helga...?" His head returned to its upright position. "What's wrong?"

"Hmm...?" Helga, her attention now caught, slightly shook her head before replying. "Oh, it's nothing, Football-H—I-I mean Arnold."

Though raising his eyebrows in moderate surprise at her self-correction of his name, Arnold chose to ignore it and thus reset his focus. "Are you sure? It just looks like you have something on your mind."

As usual, Helga became defensive, albeit less than normal, all conditions considered. "Well, nothing's on my mind! It's just—"

'_Oh, what's the use?' _thought Helga in defeat as she eyes her gaze away from Arnold and rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly.

"Okay, look, Arnoldo, the truth is...well maybe somewhere deep down within the darkest depths of the corrupt, moral-deficient corridors of my very being...maybe a part of me actually _does _wanna get to know the little guy a little. I mean, I'm not planning on being a perfect freak of nature like a certain 'Big Sis' of mine, but..."

Could she really tell Arnold the truth? After all, this matter _was_ concerning his brother...

'_Just stick to the plan, Helga, old girl. Stick to the plan.'_

"I guess you could say I saw a bit of...potential the day I met 'im. In which case, I decided, 'Hey, why not take the kid under my wing for a while?' Besides, Hair Boy, _someone's_ gotta make sure he doesn't end up as a total stick-in-the-mud."

The Pataki girl even allowed a genuine grin to grace her face!

Arnold...Arnold...he wasn't sure what to say.

But he knew one thing for sure...

"Wow, r-really? Helga, that's great!" The boy coughed to slow down and regain his composure, rubbing his neck sheepishly for the first few seconds afterwards as he continued. I-I mean, that you're willing to give a Milo a chance that is. He really is smart for his age, and everybody in the boardinghouse is proud of him for that. But's he's still just a kid like you, me, and the others...and well...I am the only other kid he's used to besides Gerald...The fact that you're here might be the best thing that's ever happened to him."

True, she wasn't begging and pleading him to be her best friend—heck, Arnold wasn't the kind of guy to even _desire_ to make friends in such a piteous manner anyway, especially in Helga's case—and she definitely wasn't spilling out to him her deepest, darkest secrets...

But to hear her admit her willingness to bond with Milo...well our ever-eager optimist was _more_ than ready to accept, even support, his "somewhat-rival's" resolve.

'_I __**knew**__ she couldn't be that mean!'_

To say the least, the aforementioned "somewhat-rival" felt almost speechless...

"R-really...?"

Arnold nodded. "Really..."

"Well, gee, uh...well, I gotta admit the tyke had some serious guts to stand his ground like that." Helga swung a fist through the air to punctuate her point. "Heck, the kid was practically as chill as ice!"

"Yeah, he's really, really good at that." Once again, Arnold looked off to the side. Helga, lost in her own thoughts, didn't notice. She did notice, however, how far her defenses had been brought down by this point.

She shook her head furiously before fixing the young man before her with the best seething glare she could muster. Luckily, this time Arnold noticed quickly enough to give the other blonde his undivided attention.

"Uh, b-but don't think that means I'm going soft, _Arnoldo_! Just because I'm starting to respect the kid doesn't mean it's a signal for ya to get any funny ideas about getting all buddy-buddy with me, _Head Boy_!"

Honestly, what else could the eternal optimist do besides a sigh, an eye roll, and, of course, "Whatever you say, Helga."

"Darn—right! Now come on already and help me find the kid before the air vents decide to make a meal outta him."

Helga couldn't help but notice out of the corner of her eye the small laugh that Arnold tried in vain to hide from her.

'_Okay, good job on the joke, so just keep it up Helga. You're doing great!'_

"Actually, Helga, we won't really need to go looking for him."

'_Wait...what?' _Helga raised half her monobrow in bafflement.

"And why, pray tell, is that?"

Suddenly and much to the tomboy's further confusion Arnold merely gave an honest grin before pointing to the entrance of the boarding house living room.

Helga, not quite certain how the living room would be the first place in which to search for Milo...but also not willing to spend the remainder of her day playing a coerced version of "Hide and Go Seek", shrugged to no one in particular before marching past Arnold and right into the living room...

...only to come upon a rather unexpected (though quite interesting) sight...

Right there on the wooden floor of the living room, miscellaneous parts scattered all around him—all the parts, Helga noted, seeming to be what once consisted of a TV minutes ago—was none other with Milo himself.

The little human gremlin did not acknowledge the present of the flaxen visitor, though. He appeared to be far too wrapped up in his own tinkering to even notice.

To say the least...Helga found herself (understandably, of course) taken back by the scene before her. When she had mentally preparing herself on the way to the Boarding House, she had running through her mind the possible scenarios she had been expecting to find Arnold's non-blood related sibling in.

Coming across his dismantling of the television had clearly _not_ been one of them.

Oh and there was also the fact that a dozen animals, a very familiar pig included, were watching the boy at work as if in actual interest.

Speaking of the animals, all of them, to the pigtailed blonde's slight surprise (and perhaps discomfort), shifted their heads immediately in her direction upon her entrance. Needless to say, the next few seconds had been an unintended and, quite frankly, awkward stare-off. A bunch of confused kids gawking at her...? Sure, Helga Pataki could handle _that _scenario with her spitfire and take-no-prisoners attitude...

Animals, however, were a bit of rough territory for her...especially after a certain fiasco involving a certain parrot...

Yet Milo still hadn't noticed her, much less_ looked_ at her.

To say the least, being ignored wasn't a stranger to Helga. She had Big Bob, Miriam, and Olga to thank for _that_ familiarity. However, being ignored by a little kid in particular...that sort of situation didn't do wonders for the girl's temper.

In fact, Helga, her monobrow furrowing in aggravation, felt herself just on the verge of barking out in order to get the kid's rapt attention. Thankfully (at least in Arnold's opinion), Milo never gave her the opportunity.

"Hi, Helga."

Okay, and scratch that part about Milo not noticing her. He _had _noticed her; he simply hadn't _looked_ at her.

In Arnold's case, on the other hand...the sepia-toned child quickly noted his older brother's presence (much faster than he had noted Helga's, the carnation-dressed dynamo realized in increasing irritation).

Speaking of Arnold, the oddly-shaped do-gooder seemed rather...well, not so much upset, as the pigtailed companion had anticipated, at the younger boy's action as much frankly bothered. If one took a closer look, though, like Helga did due to her current proximity to him (which was really making the task of her maintaining her act together increasing difficult—Arnold was so close to her that she could smell his ocean breeze shampoo in droves_—'Oh...I think I'm gonna die!'_), a flash of amusement.

Actually, now that Helga thought it, this little scene _was_ rather comical.

After all, a little kid who's not even ten yet, using a wrench expertly in order to tinker with the insides of a TV, all the while with an audience of animals observing him like some sort of allegory-fashioned congregation...?

All in all, the scene itself looked like it belonged in a fairy tale rather than real-life!

But anyway, back to _real life_ itself...

Helga, by now, had dropped her scowl, but maintained in its place a perplexed stare and frown. She honestly felt mystified, watching this spectacle take place.

'_Looks like Pheebs' got some competition after all...'_

"_Milo_...," sound Arnold, crossing his arms and trying to sound irked (though failing in that regard on account of some of his amusement peeking through).

The addressed looked up from his work and gave a head tilt that any girl besides Helga would have cooed like a dove over. "What?"

"At least wait for me _before_ you start doing taking things from the TV apart or touching them. You might hurt yourself."

An easygoing scoff escaped the younger boy as he waved off his older sib's concern, touching as it was.

"Oh, don't worry, Arnold. I've done this _millions_ of times! I practically know the pieces like the back of my hand! I just gotta remember where the sound channel goes and—"

'_Alright, that's enough!'_ exclaimed Helga, waving her hands to interrupt this _riveting_ conversation. Tech-nerd session was over!

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, okay Stark Brothers, back it up! First off...," she paused to land a questioning glare on You-Know-Who, "what the _heck,_ Football Head?"

For the second time today, the addressed rubbed his nape, embarrassed. "I'm sorry again, Helga. This is...pretty much one of those things he does from time to time."

Everyone's favorite (or not so favorite) pigtailed wonder merely looked at Arnold blankly prior to switching her vision to an intrigued Milo, one of his eyebrows ascended almost to the hairline, and back.

"What, was he _bored_ or something? Because, criminy, Arnold," she threw her hands up incredulously and exasperatedly, "when most kids feel like doing something, they usually go outside and play like _we_ do, skip in the roses like little Ms. Perfect, do homework like Phoebe, or just, oh gee, I don't know," the young female ranted in exasperation, now stroking her chin as if being pensive...before snapping back to her characteristic scowl,"...watch cartoon shows on a fully functioning and _non-dismembered_ piece of plastic!"

A sudden tug tore Helga's attention away from Arnold and directed it to the sepia-toned tinkerer, his inquisitive verdant pupils holding a valid explanation in their depths.

For reasons unexplainable, Helga had the briefest urge to shiver. _'I swear there is something... __**weird **__about this kid!'_

"Weird" probably wasn't the best word to describe how Milo made her feel, but it was, by far, the closest one she could supply herself.

"Mmm, yeah, Arnold and I are pretty much aware of _that_, Helga. I've just got different tastes than most kids. And, yes, yes I _was_ bored. Therefore, I decided to dissect our television."

The sighing female blonde looked away with an irritated countenance—the question running through her mind felt too potent to pass up.

"I got a strong feeling in my gut I'm gonna regret asking, but...why did you, uh..."dissect" it?"

Milo shrugged his shoulders.

"There was nothing good on."

Everyone just remained silent for a few seconds...at least until Helga eventually decided to speak up.

Hands currently akimbo to the waist and with a wry tone but also a frankly honest expression, Helga didn't miss a beat as she spoke to Arnold.

"Welp, Football Head, I think we can safely say you and the rest of your zany yet lovable extended family won't be watching soaps on _that_ TV for a while," pointing a thumb back to the incomplete TV...

Arnold, however, never skipping a beat either, gave the girl a prompt response.

"Actually, he's gotten really good at putting things back together. His mom just prefers it when someone's watching over him. That's why I was looking over into the living room before we came in."

All the pigtailed tormentor gave was an eye roll. _'Well, __**that **__makes semi-sense, Arnoldo. Oh, you lovable, caring __**lug**__, you...'_

"So now that the Geek Convention is over, how's about we start this party already? I ain't gettin' any younger, you know, boys!"

Arnold nodded compliantly and looked back down at his little brother, stating all the while,

"Oh right...! Hey, Milo, when you're done, we're heading upsta—!"

The younger boy gave a one-fingered salute and signed it off. "Already done, so let's go...!"

His gesture and confident tone baffled the two blondes for a moment. Arnold switched his gaze back to the TV...only to see it back in one piece again!

'_I guess he finished while Helga and I were talking.'_

But just to make sure...the football-headed young man, though impressed with his sibling's improving knack for deconstruction and reconstruction, fixed Milo with a firm yet bright expression.

"Oh...okay, then, but...first let's make sure that TV still works just in—"

Before either nine-year old could blink, the dark-toned boy jogged back to the television then flipped the power switch on it; the device flickered to life instantaneously.

A smug grin dominated the arm-crossing seven-year old's face.

"I'm sorry, Arnold. What was that again?"

A blinking Arnold, _'Wow... faster than last time...'_

Last time, it had taken the two boys at least_ two_ tries before they got the television working again. Heck, it even seemed to be functioning even better than previously!

Even Helga had to blink.

'_Huh...and here I thought only Arnold was handy.'_

"Mini-Shrimp" was just chock _full_ of surprises!


	6. Get Down to Business

**I own only Milo and Bonnie. Hey Arnold belongs to Craig Bartlett and "Flooding with Kindness" belongs to Toei Animation (or whoever owns Bobobo).**

* * *

After their odd-of-sorts reunion, the three fourth graders were soon situated in Arnold's room, the skylight permitting entrance of the enchanting, orange sun-kissed twilight. Being the first one to have entered the habitation, Helga strolled right up to the middle of the room, giving her new location a look of both feigned disinterest and secret longing, her male associates trailing in right behind her and halting right in the doorway.

Oh the memories she'd spent in this mortal temple to her angel...as embarrassing and sometimes painful her experiences here had been...

Speaking of angels...

The subject of the Pataki girl's thoughts rubbed his neck in slight uncertainty, a bit lost on what his fellow blonde might have planned for today. "So, Helga... what do you have in mind?"

After all, as far as Arnold was concerned, this day was supposed for Helga and Milo alone. He'd just be interfering.

'_Since she __**is**__ going to have to be the older sibling from this point on...'_

Helga merely shrugged. "Oh I don't know. There must something we can do around here."

Milo, much to the confusion of both blondes, perked a bit as he stuck a finger in the air. "I can introduce you to the boarders since, you know, this is your first day as the big sister."

Nuh uh—too risky—there was no telling what sort of awkwardness Helga would have to face if she ran into someone who recognized her from her previous "treks" through the boarding house. She waved a hand dismissively at Milo's offer. "Ah, I-I think I'll handle that part for myself. But, uh, thanks for the offer anyway, Sparky."

Funny that the kids should mention the boarders, though...

"Beat it, Kokoschka, that's _my_ sandwich!"

All three heads shot glances at the entrance connecting the stairs to Arnold's room to the second floor of the boarding house. A cacophony of shouts rising up from below could be heard from a mile away.

"But Ernie, why leave a perfectly good sandwich just lying there? It will just get stale!"

"Stale, smale! That was right next to me so I could get some mustard!"

"Oh well, uh, I was just making sure no one would knock it over. Isn't that right, Mr. Hyunh?"

"No! You will not be dragging me into this!"

'_Oh boy...'_ Arnold mentally groaned, sheepishly turning his head to face Helga. Not even an hour into the first day and already Helga had just received her first earful of the boarders. Fantastic...

"Sorry Helga, the boarders tend to fight sometimes."

In contrast, Milo wasn't fazed by the shouting match at all. "Nothing major, though," he admitted nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders, "...usually they just fight over bets or other small stuff. Don't worry; you get used to the racket eventually."

Raising an half her monobrow for the first few seconds following this explanation, Helga smirked good naturedly and scoffed, "Tch, please...! If ya want loud, you two oughta hear Big Bob when he's going loose at "The Wheel! You'd think he'd just lost the cure to the common cold or something! Anyway, come on, Sparky!" She gestured Milo to follow, passing a wry glance at his brother. "Might as well take Arnoldo up with us, too; being chaperone probably convince that annoying conscience of his to lighten up."

'_**And **__convince his little, dense football head how much of a sweetheart I can be!'_ she added to herself.

Arnold, being the adorable blockhead he was, couldn't help shooting a confused look at the ceiling.

'_Up...?' _Then her words clicked in his head. '_Oh, wait a second, she doesn't mean the—'_

"Time out...!" sprang out from Milo's mouth with no warning at all, badly rattling both Helga and Arnold and almost causing them to jump back. He even had his tiny hand positioned into a "T" shape. Helga clenched her chest to still her startled heart and twisted her face into a fiery scowl. "Criminy, kid, are you trying to give people heart attacks!?"

Ignoring the scathing remark, Arnold kneeled down to his little brother's eye level, gaining the younger one's attention instantaneously. "Milo...what's wrong?" _'Is he scared about something?'_

Undoing his hand gesture, Milo calmly situated a hand on Arnold's shoulder. "Oh nothing—I just have to do my monologue first."

To that assurance, Arnold shut his eyes and sighed warily. Helga, on the other hand...found herself in a rather rare condition: speechlessness...and for once the reason had nothing to do with Arnold...directly in a way at least. _'Monologue—this kid does monologues?'_

Whereas the pigtailed romantic felt developing interest, though, Arnold felt exasperation. "Uh Milo, are you sure that's really—"

Too late was any attempt by Arnold to stop the eccentric child because, before the nine-year olds had time to blink, Arnold's room, at the snap of Milo's fingers (the action made Arnold jolt his head back a bit), dimmed to a single spotlight that focused on a very sorrow-eyed Milo, a sketchbook clutched in his hand as if it were a teddy bear.

(**"Flooding with Kindness"— **Bobobo Soundtrack)

"I know you don't actually trust me, Helga, and, to be honest, I can't say I blame you, but please here me out first! Ever since my birth, I've isolated myself because I always thought I was giving my mother less reason to worry about me and more room to be happy. Except...," he paused, tightening his hold on the sketchbook, "doing that only seemed to bring her and me back to square one. Don't get me wrong; I've tried making friends before —with the help of Mom, Arnold, and everybody else in this house, too—but all of the kids around my age aside from Gerald's little sister Timberly avoided me...all because they think I act too "grown up" for them." Now his verdant eyes filled with simmering anger, no doubt at the juvenile prejudice he remembered none too fondly. "If not for Timber, I'd have been alone like I was before." Finally, a tiny yet bright smile graced Milo's face. "Now that I'm in the fourth grade, though, I feel like I have an even better chance to make friends. For the first time outside of this boarding house, I feel like there's a place in the world where I don't have to hide who I really am. This time, there's a chance for me to be around people who are closer to my maturity level. And now that I have that chance, I want to make as smooth as a transition as possible. That's why I really hope you and I can let bygones be bygones and start over as friends, Helga."

Then out went the light.

**(Music fades out)**

With a second finger snap, the lights promptly returned, revealing a smugly grinning Milo, the sketchbook mysteriously gone from his grasp. "So, what did ya think? I wrote it myself!" He even stuck a thumb to his chest to add emphasis to that statement.

Having been silent throughout the whole performance, Helga snapped out of her stupor far enough for mind to conjure up an adequate yet still Pataki-worthy response.

"Um...not bad, kid...not, uh, bad at all...I mean despite having to hang around Mr. Wet Blanket here all the time..." she finished briskly, a finger pointed at Arnold, who, though resisting an urge to eye-roll, was smirking rather amusedly at Milo's shenanigans. Deep down, though, she practically desired to clap in enthusiasm!

'_Wow...that was pretty good!'_ Almost as well orchestrated as _her_ monologues, as a matter of fact...!

Maybe she _should _engage this kid one-on-one more often! _'I might just give the little squirt a few tips.' _

"Anyway where were we?" Helga asked snappily with a smile, wishing to return to the matter at hand. Perplexity quickly substituted her smile, though, the second she caught sight of the same pensive frown from before on not only Arnold's countenance this time but Milo's as well.

Sighing in total annoyance then placing her hands akimbo, the blonde firecracker fixed the boys with an irritated glare. "Alright Football Head, alright Sparky, what part of my sentence _didn't_ just process in those _oh so_ stimulated minds of yours?"

Milo merely raised an eyebrow, his expression never changing. "Well...why the _roof_...?"

"Because, Sparky, that ruckus down there is driving me _crazy_...!" she exclaimed, pointing a finger at the floor. "You expect bonding time to commence if we can all hear World War 3 going down below us?" _'Sheesh, I was expecting a better reaction out of these two zone-outers than this!'_

Arnold and Milo made a reaction all right...just not the one she'd been expecting. In fact, much to Helga's further confusion, the two boys merely shared a look both staring back at her.

An unsure Arnold rubbed the back of his neck once again as he addressed the other blonde in a shy manner, "That might not be such a good idea, Helga."

Helga narrowed her aqua blue eyes. Were they hiding something from her? "And why exactly would _that_ be, Arnoldo?"

"...Arnold," the sepia-toned mini-gentleman casually asked as he tapped the addressee's shoulder, gaining his attention, "if I may..."

"Uh sure...Go ahead."

"Thanks!" Milo swiveled his head to the lovely Miss Pataki. "Helga, follow me this way please..."

* * *

Okay, Helga had to rub to her eyes a bit. Can't blame her, though, since the scene right before her eyes looked like it came right of a crazy kung-fu movie!

Gertie and Bonnie, both dressed in white martial arts uniforms and black belts, were going at each other like overpowered characters in an anime! Backflip there, round-house kick over here...and—what the...?—was that a haymaker just a few seconds ago?—those ladies were all over the place! This way, that way, over there, over here—none of the children could see anything save for two blurs—one light, the other dark. Of course, Milo and Arnold, having gotten well adapted to seeing such scenes, simply waited in the background. Helga, on the other hand, could feel her speechlessness making its comeback with a vengeance! She almost had to hold her head from the dizziness experienced from watching these two women!

Thankfully for the pigtailed blonde, whatever Gertie and Bonnie had been in the middle of was coming to an end for the former, after just having executed a perfect backflip landing, gestured her hands pointed towards each other and below her abdomen—evidently a sign of conclusion. Her younger, dark-toned counterpart, seeing the signal, obediently followed suit, bowing to the elderly woman in deep respect.

"That concludes our lesson for today, Bon-san. The time grows short and other duties must be fulfilled before the day's end! You are dismissed, my student." As such, Gertie reciprocated the bow.

"Thank you...Sensei."

Then like a switch, the atmosphere pivoted from somber intensity to casual playfulness.

Gertie, right after ending her bow, donned a perky grin on her wizened face. "Not bad, Bonnie! You did tons better than last time!"

Likewise, Bonnie returned the expression in full while wrapping a towel from nearby around her shoulders, allowing the ends to hang off by her front. "You sure...? I swear somewhere I missed a step..." The Polynesian woman put a finger to her chin in momentary thought before her aquamarine eyes fell on the kids. She as smiled as she merrily waved a hand at them.

"Hey guys!"

Arnold and Milo returned the greeting, each one giving his respective reply:

"Hey, Bonnie...! Hey, Grandma…!"

"Hi, Mom...! Hi, Gertie…!"

To the confusion of the two children, though, Bonnie and Gertie narrowed their eyes as if trying to determine if their visions were fooling them, the former asking, "Is that Helga?"

"Yeah, she's..." Arnold began...only to frown in confusion when he no longer saw the taller blonde in between him and his little brother. "Uh, Milo...Did you see where Helga—"

No more words were necessary when Milo suddenly rang out with a finger, "_There_ she is! Helga, come on," he shouted out in playful exasperation, his hands cupped around his mouth, "I know you're supposed to be a sourpuss, but there's no way you could be_ that_ rude!"

'_Milo!' _Oh, how Arnold needed to facepalm right now!

Much to the expectant slyness of Milo and chagrin of Arnold, Helga took extreme offense to the "sourpuss" comment; she halted halfway from the skylight then spun in place to launch a scowl at the seven-year old smart aleck,

"What did you just—"

...only to come face to face with none other than said smart aleck's mother...The older woman's half-lidded blank countenance unmistakably read _'No, really, what were you going to say?'_

In this case, Helga couldn't prevent herself from stammering. After the scene she'd been treated to, the blonde girl was in no rush to be a target dummy for this chick's fist.

"Oh, uh...you must be, uh, Spark—I mean, Milo's Mom, heh, heh...," Helga lamely pointed out while stretching her collar out a bit in anxiety, her mind _and _her guts failing her at this point.

With a slight half-smirk and a droll "And you must be the girl who loves making Arnold's life a living hell," Bonnie, in contrast, didn't miss a beat.

Helga, "Uh, I, uh..." _'I've...got nothing.'_

All of a sudden (and to the female flaxen's relief of course), the dark-toned miss plastered a huge grin while waving her hand dismissively. "Ah, just joking with ya! Name's Bonnie. _Ia Ora na_!" (yo-rah-nah)

Where was there a cricket when a person needed one? Honestly, the silence that constituted a blank-faced Helga's response to the foreign greeting was not impalpable—nor was it lost on Bonnie.

"Sorry; sometimes I slip with my words," the older woman scratched the back of her head a tad sheepishly. "Bad habit...I was saying hello to you in Tahitian."

"Oh...well, hey then, Bonnie!" Wow, foreign greeting aside, Helga found conversing with this woman to be rather easy…almost to the point that the blonde had to wonder if this chick possibly had any ulterior motives at all.

'_Sheesh, opening up shouldn't be __**this**__ easy! I would have expected myself to have been scowling at least once.'_

Maybe the reason came from the how warm and friendly this Bonnie lady was being. No one had ever been so open and pleasant to her aside from Arnold and Phoebe— and now Milo, too. The reality of this scenario, to say the least, left the girl with her defenses far more down than normal.

Then again, wasn't that part about her defenses sort of the point to her plan?

"You know you're not really as bad as the lady at Sunny Smiles made you out to be. You look like a pretty nice kid." Indeed, Bonnie even tilted her head and narrowed her eyes a bit at Helga as if to verify for herself any telltale signs of a "mischief-maker in the works."

Thankfully, the observation was just what Helga needed to stay on her toes and regain some of her genuine Pataki confidence.

She scoffed lightly and placed the back of her hands akimbo. "Oh, believe me, sister, that chick might have been more on the ball than you think. After all, this is _Helga G. Pataki_ we're talking about here!"

Bonnie shook her head empathically, her ponytailed hair swishing in the evening light. "Yep, definitely Big Bob's kid...Takin' charge and takin' no prisoners. At least you can back up your words."

'_Wait a second…'_ Helga wondered for a second, _'she sounds as if she knew Bob personally.' _The pigtailed blonde gestured her hands to signal Bonnie to pause for now. "Whoa, whoa, wait, lady...how do you know my—"

"Why, is that Eleanor? Oh sweetie, it's been ages!" Yes, that's right: Gertie.

'_Oh...crud...'_ Helga forgot about that lady completely! In which case—

"Well, I think that concludes our little get-together," a suddenly beaming Helga finished briskly, clapping her hands together. "Woo boy, sorry to cut the chit-chat, ladies, but sibling-bonding fun waits for no one! Well, boys, I say it's time we head back down!" Thus, she manually rotated Arnold and Milo by the shoulders and commenced pushing them along to the skylight. Best not to let any secrets see the light of day—well evening in this case, but anyway—

"Oh hey, here's an idea! What did ya say we treat ourselves to some of that ice cream Milo was going on about?"

"Sounds good, Helga," Milo spoke out slowly,_ 'even though I never said anything about ice cream in the __**first**__ place,' _"...except dinner's going to be ready in a few hours."

"Ooo, which reminds me...!"

Before anyone could ask, Gertie—the origin of the prior half-statement— pulled out of her white bag an expansive hat that had its wide brim bent upward at the front. "I better tend to the chook and yabbie! Tonight's shrimp on the barby is gonna be a beaut for sure!" A wizened hand swung through the air as Gertie said this. She then gave the kids a sly wink. "You ankle biters stay outta trouble now!"

"Um, right Grandma..." Arnold replied warily. _'Oh boy…'_

The moment Gertie was out of earshot, the football-headed young man glanced a dry look to Bonnie. "Australian styled dinner...?"

As usual, Bonnie did not skip a beat, especially with Arnold's half-lidded stare aimed in her direction and reflected on her own face. "Yep, as yet _another_ part of her Cultural Exchange idea...the whole nine-yards in fact..."

A concerned Milo, "Are you sure Grandma will be able to cook enough for everybody in just a few hours?"

A slight snort escaped Bonnie before she addressed her son. "Trust me, kiddo...Grandma _always_ finds a way when it comes to dinner. She'll be doing most of the stuff on a grill, anyway, so you guys can hang out in the kitchen if you feel like it."

And with those words, Bonnie walked to Arnold's skylight and climbed down into the room below, though not without a goodbye wave first. Milo, Arnold, and Helga all returned the gesture, despite Helga's being more reluctant than those of the boys.

Milo inhaled lightly and quickly exhaled soon after before addressing the older blondes. "So what do you guys say? Do we crash in the kitchen 'til dinner's ready?"

Arnold shrugged indifferently. "I don't mind."

Milo nodded before glancing to the pigtailed blonde beside him, a sunny half-grin on his face. "What about you, Helga? The sunrise is pretty beautiful today. If you want, you can just stay here and sightsee until one of us calls you down."

Though Helga merely raised half her monobrow at the suggestion, inside the female fourth grader's noggin was a thought of a whole other color. _'No stinking way! If I stay behind, this kid could probably blab my secret right behind my back! Nice try but fat chance, Sparky!'_

"And leave me up here with nothing to do besides being a sitting target for incoming pigeon projectiles? Thanks for the offer to enjoy the scenery, kid, but I'm sticking to a place with a roof over _my_ head." Yes siree, Helga G. Pataki may have had numerous faults, but being gullible was _not _one of them! If this punk believed he could pull the wool over _her _eyes, then he's in for a real shock!

Much to the blonde's dumbfounded surprise instead, however, the sepia-toned child tapped his chin and gave the sky a thoughtful look, "Oh right, I for_got_ about the pigeons...," then shot the same cheerful grin from earlier today as he eagerly waved Arnold and Helga to follow him downstairs. "Come on!"

Not unexpectedly, Arnold, being used to the younger boy's "off-and-on" casualness, did not hesitate in following. Helga, on the other hand…

Seriously, she couldn't tell whether this tyke even kept up with his own mind at all or simply liked playing mind games. _'Kid, I don't what you're up to...but it'll take a lot more than a little diversion to keep __**me**__ off the track, bucko!'_

* * *

Well...disappearing again would probably do the trick...in fact, Helga was starting to wonder whether both this kid _and_ Arnold knew about her secret after all and were messing with her just for fun.

'_Okay…I am __**really**__ getting tired of this little game,' _internally griped the pigtailed blonde, who of which was currently leaning against the refrigerator of the kitchen. Meanwhile, Arnold sat at one of the chairs near the center table, drumming his hands on the table's wood.

Mostly in an attempt to cut off that wretched tapping noise, Helga shot out, "Criminy, Football Head, I know I'm supposed to be his new big sister, but I don't recall anything in the deal saying you get to sit on your _butt_ all day long!"

The oblong-headed young man rolled his eyes before coolly answering to the scathing remark, "I'm just trying not to expend my energy like you're doing...this is a pretty regular thing for him anyway...just like with the TV." He made sure to cease his tapping, though, at least for Helga's sake.

His female associate scoffed at what was, in her opinion, an extremely flimsy explanation. _'Nice excuse, but nice try, too, Arnoldo...'_

"It really is, actually," Arnold insisted evenly, his sincere tone catching the other flaxen off guard. "Ever since he was a baby, Milo's always been popping in and out without anyone ever noticing. I guess you could say that's kind of his style. Sometimes we tried looking for him when he was smaller, but everyone eventually decided it's easier just to wait for him to show up."

Quietude dominated the kitchen for the succeeding minute or two. Once or twice during that time, Helga raised a finger and opened her mouth as if to speak…only to come up with nothing to point out or say at all. She really _was_ that dumbfounded. _'He __**can't**__ be serious!'_

In a display of reasonable exasperation, Helga threw her arms upwards. "Well, what_ I _do then? Wait around to collect dust?"

As if to further her chagrin even more, Arnold shrugged his shoulders indifferently for the second time that day. "Well until he comes back...I guess so...except the dust part."

Helga remained silent for a few moments before slowly rolling her eyes and groaning irritably, "Oh perfe—"

"Hi guys!"

Two feet and 2 inches: that height is how far Helga jumped from the slight scare Milo's sharp voice instilled in her. Like a pinwheel, the female blonde pivoted on one foot to deliver a glare seething with annoyance to the tyke standing behind her. "Don't _ever_ surprise me like that!"

But alas, once again, Helga found herself faced with _another _occupant of the boardinghouse: Arnold's grandpa, Phil, to be exact.

"Woo, heh ,heh, sorry about that! Milo here just likes to scare the jeepers outta folks sometimes," the old man tousled Milo's hair, not that the action deeply irritated the boy; Milo had long grown used to people doing such to him. "Keeps 'em on their toes!"

"Hey Grandpa," greeted Arnold with a wave.

"Hey Shortman, I thought I'd might find ya down here! Found Little Scamp here lookin' for one of his ol' sketchbooks. Guess the pressure of being away from his little babies was just too much for 'im!"

Milo, sketchbook in hand, shot a half-lidded stare and a frown up at Phil. "_Grandpa_..."

Failing to notice the young boy's countenance, Phil moved on to his next victim: Arnold. "Oh, I see you brought your friend with the one eyebrow to hang out with cha today, Shortman. Heh, heh, heh!"

Red practically flooded Arnold's cheeks at this point. Helga, though no blushing occurred in her case, had to exert all her will not to chuckle at her beloved's expressions. "G-Grandpa! She's...I didn't—well, you see—"

"Ah, I'm just messin' with ya, Shortman! So this is the scamp's older sister, eh?" He tousled Helga's hair as he said this. Helga made quick work of restoring her poor hair. _'Sheesh, what was up with old folks and tousling up hair anyway—seriously?'_

"Oh, just make sure Kokoschka doesn't get his mitts on those sandwiches, kids. The sleazeball's got a bottomless pit for a stomach!" Honestly...Helga couldn't tell whether this guy meant what he said or was just being a joker again.

As if the lunacity of that statement weren't enough, Milo even started giving the kitchen a distrustful glance-around, almost as if expecting indeed for someone to leap out and grab his, Arnold, and Helga's prepared sandwiches from the refrigerator.

"Actually, we heard him earlier," the dark-toned child notified his elder before offering a thumbs up and a grateful smile, "...but thanks anyway for the tip, Grandpa!"

"My pleasure, Scamp!" Phil exclaimed, returning the gesture. "Oh well, I'd better get my supplies ready for tonight."

Arnold, "What supplies?"

"Oh you know, Shortman, for the ritual post-dinner recovery. I'll betcha my entire life savings Pookie's gonna sneak a few raspberries into dessert if she can help it." And with those words shared, the boardinghouse owner trotted his way up the stairs and out of sight. The moment the elder disappeared, Arnold sighed in amusement. That grandfather of his—always telling him to never eat raspberries even when he himself incites his own mini bowel apocalypse by doing the opposite...

Storing the prospect of his grandfather's humorous hypocrisy in the back of his oblong-shaped head, Arnold returned his sights to Milo and Helga, ready to notify them of his upcoming departure to his room to leave the two by themselves...well at least he intended to until...

"Aw shoot! Uh, Shortman, the pipework up here's actin' up again! Dang nab it! I could use a hand up here!"

Did Arnold hear his grandpa correctly? _'I thought we fixed the pipes last month.' _Then again, the structure of this ancient boardinghouse never took long to start needing repairs, especially in the case of the internal workings. "I'm coming, Grandpa!"

Just before the young male blonde left, though..."I'll see you guys at dinner, okay?"

His little brother gave a friendly wave goodbye. "Okay, Arnster!"

His personal tormentor gave no gesture at all—only a bored stare. "Whatever, Football Head."

Smiling at the odd yet endearing exclamation of the former and shrugging off the typical Pataki-style statement of the latter, the football-headed do-gooder dashed up the step to assist his elder...thus finally leaving Milo and Helga alone. In other words...

"Time to get down to business," the seven-year old suddenly stated point-blank to Helga the moment both could no longer hear Arnold's footsteps. He placed his sketchbook down on a nearby counter then cracked his tiny, pudgy fingers as his mouth dipped into a serious frown.

Helga swore her vision was off; she also swore she hadn't heard right. She raised half a monobrow at this new Milo. What happened to that smart-aleck-but-still-somehow-a-nice-guy mood from a few seconds ago? "Excuse me?"

"There are a few questions I'd like to ask first."

'_Say __**what**__!?'_ Dinner plates couldn't hold a candle to Helga's eyes in terms of size! Now the pigtailed girl _knew _she hadn't heard right!

"You heard me, Helga," Milo asserted, situating himself behind his chair. You're obviously planning on questioning me after we come to your house tomorrow, so I figured to at least get _my _end of the interrogation over while I've still got the chance."

Oh no...No—freaking—way...Helga was a friend to irony alright, but the fact that the tables were being turned on her...and by someone two years younger than her, no less...? _That_ was where the fiery queen of the fourth grade had to draw the line! Especially after seeing the business like look and position Milo adopted after dragging Arnold's seat to the table side opposite of Helga and planting himself in it. His tone burrowed under her skin the most, though—almost as if he were sizing her up.

At such an assumption, the Pataki girl huffed defiantly and crossed her arms, making dead sure to match Milo's cool stare with a heated glare. So he thinks he can just pull off some lame Tony Stark impression and sneak the answers right out of her? Fat chance! _'Well __**two**__ can play at this game, Sparky!'_

"Why are you so rough on Arnold?"

"Who says the way I treat Arnoldo is any of _your_ business?" _'That's right, Squirt! Keep that nose of yours where it belongs!'_

Milo's persistence remained underestimated. "_You_ actually...Any person who treats Arnold so badly is _always _my business. He's my brother after all, and if he gets to worry about my well-being most of the time, then who says I can't do the same for him?"

'_A faithful sibling until the very end...oh Arnold, I only pray, my love, that you realize your great fortune, your fortune of having a brother so steadfast and loyal.'_

In the real world, however, Helga sighed warily and put a palm to her forehead in mock exasperation. "Oh brother...I think I can finally see the family resemblance."

Said comment earned narrowed eyes from Milo. "Oh, so _that's_ how you see it. In which case," his tone suddenly switched from stiffly professional back to warmly casual, "I'm surprised I've managed to trick you so easily, by the way, Helga."

The addressed scrunched her monobrow in slight confusion. "What are you saying?"

To her immediate discomfort, a knowing grin appeared on the younger boy's countenance. If the blonde didn't know better, she'd say that this kid was enjoying observing her reactions. "I'm not as dense as Arnold. I'm also not as innocent as I appear. There's a reason I've disappearing repetitively. Same reason as to why Grandpa just asked for Arnold's help..."

With each passing word, Helga's eyes expanded more and more. Were there no limits to the capabilities of the boy before her? _'Criminy, who __**is **__this kid?' _"You mean...all of the stuff you've been doing...was on_ purpose_?"

"Well," Milo slowly and purposefully dragged that one word out—no doubt for suspense in Helga's opinion. The Pataki girl's interrogator, temporarily now the interrogated, showed no bashfulness as he contemplated his next words. "Not _all_ the stuff...The part with the TV was real enough. And Arnold wasn't fibbing about my habit of 'popping in and out.' The sketchbook excuse, though, was just a ruse. Plus, Arnold has no idea that my 'habit' even had a role to play this time."

Helga...Helga was speechless! Speechless about the fact that she had a fellow plotter in front of her...and at such a young age too...and that he could very well hold the ability to manipulate her deepest, darkest secret if given even the slightest opportunity!

"Helga G. Pataki, I know you don't exactly hate Arn—"

'_NO!'_ and _'Whoa...'_ went off in the mental world at the same time—the former belonged to Helga, who abruptly slammed her fists on the table to halt Milo in mid-sentence! Latter belonged to Milo, who, despite not being afraid in the slightest, _did _show concern after he jerked his head back. Right this moment, he felt more as if he was in the presence of a mental patient with a tragic backstory than a fearsome preteen. Even with all that blind fury pouring off in droves, Helga G. Pataki inadvertently revealed a rare sliver of something different...something no one save for Phoebe and, on rare occasions, Arnold had ever obtained the chance of seeing.

Fear.

Fear is all Milo saw. Yes, he felt the anger. Yes, he understood how close he'd gotten himself to receiving a thorough beating from Ol' Betsy and the Five Avengers.

And he couldn't have cared less. Though externally, he remained startled, his ears being well attentive to Helga's following rage-driven demand...

"Listen up and listen well, shrimp! No one—and I repeat, no one!—is to ever find out! Not the simpletons we have to coexist with at school! Not the people who live in this boarding house! And especially—not—Arnold...!"

In a far corner of the precocious seven-year old's mind lay one simple, heartbreaking question: _'How alone is she?'_

But no, he couldn't bring such a personal inquiry out in the open, especially not with Helga in such an emotional state. "Don't worry, Helga," he assured her calmly. "I'm good at keeping secrets. Quick question, though: why me?"

A considerable edge of Helga's anger up and went thanks to the unexpectedness of Milo's question. "Pardon...?" the blonde asked numbly, lost in wondering where this kid's mind's direction of thinking.

"Why choose to be a big sister to me?" Milo gestured a hand to his chest. "Why not just be nice to Arnold in the first place? You looked like you were doing a good job of that earlier." Actually, Milo knew very well the reason for Helga's act, but he also knew that Helga needed someone to vent her emotions to, and he'd have to fit the bill for now.

"Yeah well, being nice is one thing. But actually l—, "...Arms crossed once again, Helga paused then looked away from Milo, unsure whether or not to continue.

"What...?" the younger child coaxed, tilting his head to signify his close attention.

Helga dared a cautious glance at the dark-toned boy. _'Ah what the heck—it's not like anyone would believe a seven year old anyway.'_ True enough, such thought derived from an unspoken rule at P.S. 118: Little kids (as in kids of any ages under 9) are to automatically be taken with a grain of salt. Granted, such a rule only made nonsense since the big kids were just as bound to spill yarns. Regardless, the Pataki girl still took comfort in such a screwy ordain being adhered to so devoutly because...well, kids _are _kids after all.

As such, the blonde took a deep breath. _"_Actually...liking someone...?" she uttered in a worn-out tone of voice. "Yeah right, the entire school would make a meal outta my own carcass!"

Milo made a face that denoted "Oh man, that bites," not liking the sound of _that _prospect—not—one—bit. "Damn...," floated off his tongue in pure sympathy.

"Exactly, Sparky," Helga agreed bluntly with a mild scowl, calling on her returning Pataki confidence and pointing a finger at Milo, "so keep that lid of yours shut and that little throat of yours stays intact. Got it?"

Her darker-toned acquaintance nodded smartly. "Then just lay off of Arnold for now, Helga. You're spending time with his baby brother, who, you have to admit, is pretty awesome after the stuff you've seen me do today," Milo had to smirk a bit at his last bunch of words but then switched back to focused demeanor, "...but also not as much of a little snot as you might think."

When he judged from Helga's dubious expression that she still had doubts, he continued his efforts to ease her into accepting the solution. "I'm not saying drop the act altogether, Helga. Just open up right here with me and everyone else in the boarding house, okay?"

All of this—All of this just sounded too easy. For Helga, if there was one aspect of her life that she was familiar with, it was the constant occurrence of difficult situations!

How did she even know she could trust this kid?

"Besides, why rock the boat at all? It's not like your reputation is at stake here," Milo added with a simple smile; his verdant eyes almost appeared to sparkle as he kept explaining. "There's Arnold, who _kind of_ knows you for the most part...the boarders who really know virtually _nothing_ about you...and would most likely love to meet you...me, Mom, Grandpa, and Grandma who know a lot about you through what Arnold's vented to us...and that's pretty much it."

He made the idea sound so simple. A place full of people where she could be herself...? Was this offer too good to be true?

Right from the beginning of this boy's elaboration, Helga found herself musing on how sensible this entire plan sounded. Start right here in the boardinghouse...? Well...Bonnie _had _greeted Helga quite warmly, and that compliment by itself signified multitudes to child used to negligence; Phil and Gertie, their eccentricities aside, were actually pretty cool for their ages; and, from what Helga had observed during her, ahem, "rescue missions" here, the boarders (sans that Kokoschka guy of course) seemed like a very lovable bunch. And yet...what if...

'_Man, I hate moral dilemmas!'_ Helga griped in her mind, gritting her teeth and curling her hands into fists, infuriated by her inability to come to a clear-cut decision.

Thankfully for the young girl, Milo sensed that she wasn't ready to answer to his solution just yet, so he wisely stood up from his seat, ready to depart for...well some place other than this kitchen. "Alright, then, you can think it over. Dinner'll be ready in an hour, so I suggest you at least get comfortable. Things get _pretty_ kooky at dinnertime!"

No reply came from Helga; the blonde female only stared off listlessly into space, her half-lidded stare belying her pensive mood. Looks like there'd be a while before this chick would eventually come to a definite choice...

Milo merely sighed knowingly but also half-smiled with empathy._ 'Stubborn as an ox...,'_ he commented to himself before turning around to face the stairs.

All the while, Helga, halfway between thought-absorbed oblivion and reality, barely heard the following words:

"Oh hey Arn—"

"Milo! Where ah you?" a familiar, Asian-accented voice called out suddenly. "Your mother and I ah about to play Pa'cheesi! Do you wish to join us?"

A brief pause of silence followed in Helga's ears soon afterwards for some reason.

"Okay! Hey Helga, do you wanna—"

"Nah, Sparky, you go ahead...," the Pataki dismissed blandly, gesturing a hand to urge the tyke to go already. She still needed some time to think.

"Sure you wanna spend the an hour all by yourself down here w—"

'_Oh brother...'_ Will that kid just go already? Besides, if Football Head _is _back again, then hey, Helga could just tell him she had a nice chat with his baby brother and end today on a good note by leaving—easy! "Yes, I _am_, Sparky."

...

"Oh alright, be it far from me to twist your arm. See ya, Helga! We'll talk more at dinner, 'kay?"

"Uh, yeah, sure..."

"And have fun with Arnie!"

"Yeah whateve—"

That last word in Milo's sentence snapped a now wide-eyed Helga right back to reality—and a second too late. _'Wait a second. __**What**__?'_

"Hello Helga, my love." SNORT!

* * *

**I'm going to **_**love**_** putting Helga in awkward situations! :D**

**By the way, sorry about the inconsistent title format on Chapter 5.**


	7. Cousins and Interrogations

**Milo and all other characters and elements non-canon to Hey Arnold belong to me. Any characters and elements canon to Hey Arnold belong to Craig Bartlett and Nickelodeon.**

* * *

**KNOCK!** **KNOCK!** **KNOCK!**

"I'm coming! I'm coming!" an annoyed-sounding, young voice sounded from behind the sealed wooden entrance. The moment that door to the Mahanas' room opened and a larger, pale hand grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt, Milo lost all chances to get a word in edgewise.

"You never told me Arnold's freakshow cousin was coming!" Helga hissed in a harsh whisper; no way was she going to shout at the top of her lungs—not on a floor full of so many potential witnesses. She might have been trying her absolute hardest to look angry and irritated at the moment as she scowled her fiercest scowl down at the smaller boy, but now that Milo looked at her...she looked more as if she were trying to beg sanctuary from some fate far worse than death (a notion probably not too far from the truth in the boy's opinion...).

As for what said fate was, though, Milo couldn't say. The young boy merely raised an eyebrow, genuinely lost. "You mean Arnie?"

'_Criminy, I am surrounded!'_ Helga slapped a palm to her face in pure exasperation then threw her hands up in the air. "Who else's weirdo cousin do ya think I'm talking about? Of course, I mean Arnie! _Do_ something about him!"

A small frown appeared on Milo's countenance at the way Helga kept insulting Arnold's expressionless counterpart. Milo had been around the country boy long enough to be familiar with how he approached girls he liked-liked; even so, though, the guy's rock-headed persistence and neutrality in mood was no excuse to be offensive towards him. "What's wrong with him?" Milo inquired slowly, this time, pretending to not see the blonde's point. He had a fairly strong hunch by now as to why Helga was at his door. "Is he sick?"

Face-palming Helga, just as the kid predicted...

"No, Milo," she slowly explained in a falsely pleasant sweet tone that dropped further and further with each progressing word. "He's just suffering from a severe case of denial. Oh, but don't worry, I've got the perfect remedy for _that_: a good, heaping dose of **reality**!" She scowled and pulled Ol' Betsy to her face to prove her point. Even though she and Milo were still conversing with lower-than-normal inside voices, the hair-tearing rage in the blonde's voice could be sensed from a mile away.

She was _that _steamed.

But a certain seven-year old's mind stumbled upon an interesting memory in the meantime. He craned his head sideways at Helga, narrowing his eyes in interest, crossing his arms furtively as he did. "This wouldn't have anything to do with the last time he visited, would it?"

Helga stared at her "little brother" in a dumbstruck fashion for a few seconds first, all anger gone, before sighing and dropping her fist in defeat. "So I'm guessing Arnoldo's already spilled the beans to ya about the little love fiasco we went through last month."

Milo shrugged his shoulders, memories of catching brief glimpses of a flustered Arnold and an unusually sympathetic (or better yet empathetic) Helga the most prominent remnants of remembrance in his mind at the moment. "Kinda...All he told me was that you helped him in trying to make Lila jealous...," the boy paused to roll his eyes, "only to make Arnie fall in love with you instead...he never went into the details, but I can pretty much guess that the stuff you two did together was pretty...uh...romantically intense to say the least." The kid raised an eyebrow as if to ask _'I'm up to speed, right?'_

This time, Helga shrugged _her_ shoulders nonchalantly, her mood secretly brightened up by the mention of the intimacy she had had the pleasure of partaking with her beloved. "Yeah, well, what else do ya expect, Sparky? Football Head was desperate to do anything to get Miss Perfect back in his arms and I felt sorry for the little yutz so I did him a favor."

This time, the raised eyebrow on Milo's countenance obtained company from a growing smirk. "A _favor_...? That's it? This _is_ **you** we're talking about, right? Or were you referring to another eccentric blonde chick with a crazy, secret love obsession?"

Feeling an odd sense of ease, Helga smirked and waved a hand dismissively, almost forgetting about Arnie—yeah right, like she could ever get the little freak and his famous snort out of her memory. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, another psychotic love story in the lifelong theatrical production of Helga G. Pataki..." Then she cleared her throat indicatively to bring the conversation back on track. "Look, Sparky, I just need you to help me find some way to get that creep off my back. Consider it the first favor to do for your big sister!" she punctuated with a dry grin.

"Have you tried talking to him, Helga?"

A sour look passed Helga's face the second after that inquiry had passed. "News flash: Arnie is about 1.5 times denser than your brother is. And trust me—_that's_ pretty dense," she answered in a deadpan tone.

"You could just join _us_ then, Helga." The blonde froze, her mind _and _her words along with her, not certain whether or not her ears had just heard right.

"Excuse me?" she replied lamely with a blank look.

Arms uncrossed, Milo grinned simply and honestly. "Join us in Parcheesi—me, Mom, and Mr. Hyunh. We're almost done already, anyway, but you can still watch us. Hey, maybe after dinner, we could even show you how to play! We should have room for one more game before you have to go home."

"Um...," Helga slowly uttered, taken by this generous (not to mention sanity-saving) offer, "wow, um, thanks kid! I mean, thanks for bailing me out of 'quality time' with the future "Father of the Corn." One more of his snorts and I was about ready to strap 'im to a rocket and launch him to Planet Jupiter."

The sepia-toned boy waved a hand in humble dismissal. "Eh, no problem, Helga...I'm not sure if you've played this game before, though, so I can't say whether you'll be going home with a victory before tonight is done."

Shrugging her shoulders and setting her hands akimbo, the pigtailed blonde smirked smartly. _'Don't count me outta the ballpark yet, Sparky.' _"Eh, I'm a fast learner. Just don't think of going easy on me, kid."

At that "warning," Milo rolled his eyes—smile still intact on his face—and well-imitated his older brother's unconsciously favorite phrase of all time. "Whatever you say, Helga..."

"That's the attitude, kid!" the blonde complimented heartily with a firm but affectionate punch to the shoulder...and a real, honest-to-God beam on her face.

Neither child noticed the proud-looking football-head of a young man gazing down from a green door at the top of the attic stairs...

...or the dull but intent stare of a grey, country doppelganger version of the young man, staring from just around the hallway entrance...

* * *

_The next day..._

"And where are _you_ going in such a hurry, kahuna?"

Milo halted in mid-run, one leg stuck in the back, mid-air, and his arms frozen in opposite directions, baseball glove in one hand and bat in the other. Behind him, Bonnie stood as knowingly as any mother could, arms crossed, a sly grin on her face. A blank-faced Arnold stood just off to the side, his hands holding a sud-ridden, light-blue dish. His little brother undid his action-style pose and faced his mother with an innocent smile.

"Just to Gerald Field—our team's going up against Mangebutt and his attack-dogs." Bonnie could only huff in amusement at her son's quirky nicknames for his and their team's higher-grade adversaries. Her amusement only grew further as Milo shot a glance at Arnold and pointedly added, "Right, Arnold?"

The football-headed wonderboy's body went erect at the emphasis placed on the last two words. "Oh right! I'm sorry, Milo. I forgot." Milo simply rolled his eyes. Arnold had been slipping up lately for some reason.

"And what about _you_, _Miss Mahana_ ...? You look awful cheery this morning." Milo attempted his best not to grin like a Cheshire Cat at his mother's sudden blush—or the fact that she nearly dropped three plates onto the floor as a result of her suddenly numb hands (Thank goodness Arnold was right next to her to catch them all). Nobody needed to see her expression to determine how embarrassed she felt right now.

Milo had a strong hunch anyway. _'Not to mention __**why**__, I might add. I saw the lipstick in her hand this morning.'_

"Yes, well," she coughed a bit to clear her throat before speaking. "Youboysbetterhigh-tailthosefanniesofyoursthisi nstantifyouwannashowWolfgang andhiscronieswhatforamIright ? Nosenseinnotshowingup! Imeanyoudon'twannaupsetyourbuds! Thanksforcoming! Bye!"

And before you could say David Hasselhoff, Milo and Arnold were whisked right out the door, which promptly shut immediately at their backs! The two spent the next three seconds on the top step of the doorsteps, staring blankly at nothing besides empty space...before they finally looked to each other and Arnold numbly asked, "Did you catch any of that?"

"Pretty much," went Milo in an unimpressed tone. "Basically, Mom is getting ready to snog Mr. Hyunh upstairs but thinks we're too young to hear any of their intimacy."

His older brother's stare turned in a half-lidded one, somewhere in between saying "Are they really?" and "Someone your age shouldn't know stuff like that!" Milo raised his hands in metaphorical defense. "Hey, it's the truth."

All of a sudden, Arnold remembered something important: his baseball glove was still back in the boardinghouse—in his room to be exact—so he turned back to the door and piped up in an urgent tone, "Wait, Bonnie, I still need my—"

The door swung open long enough for the needed item to fly through the air and land in a surprised Arnold's quick hands then shut closed once again. Neither Arnold nor Milo even caught a glimpse of Bonnie this time.

"Uh," the blonde intelligently stated, "...how about we just get to Gerald Field?"

Milo nodded promptly._ 'We've wasted enough time here as it is. Besides, I'll have plenty of time to embarrass Mom at dinnertime tonight, anyway.'_ And with that pleasing thought mind, the brotherly duo began the long walk to the baseball game...only to run into an unexpected face right in their path, waiting for them.

The boys didn't see her until they took that last step off the porch, but there was no mistaking the large, pink bow or long, sunshine-yellow pigtails as the one and only Pataki dynamo leaned against the boardinghouse's red-brick wall, her scowl a bored one for once instead of her usual anger-induced one.

"Helga?" the two exclaimed in shocked unison when they finally noticed her.

The addressed firecracker replied with a brisk nod, a sarcastic grin, and, "Hey, Football Head, hey Sparky, how's tricks?"

Arnold narrowed his eyes a bit in genuine confusion. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at the game?"

Milo had the same questions in mind. The Pataki girl was always on everybody's case about showing up at both the practices _and _the games on time...yet here she was instead at the house of the "boy she supposedly hated with all her guts"; there _had _to be a valid reason for this strange occurrence. _'Something pretty big would have to happen for Helga, of all people, to not go.'_

Meanwhile, in response to Arnold's reasonable inquiry, half a monobrow shot up before its owner perked up in understanding. "Oh yeah, I guess you two didn't hear. Turns out Wolfgang caught the chicken pox today, so the fifth-graders called the game off," the female flaxen explained, punctuating the explanation with a casual shoulder shrug. "Heh, it figures."

Two different pairs of eyebrows shot up at this tidbit of news. A wide, goofy grin stretched across Milo's face as Arnold, in stark contrast, rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "Wow, I hope he'll be alright."

Wait a sec, what? Milo and Helga stared at Arnold as if he had grown a third eye on his forehead. Where did _that _come from?

Milo rubbed a finger into ear as if he was clearing his hearing canals up. "I'm sorry. Did I just hear you express sympathy for _Wolfgang,_ Arnold?"

At this sarcastic statement, Arnold, hands akimbo, shot a half-lidded glare down at his younger sibling. "You had chicken pox last year, Milo. You know what it's like."

Yes, that fact was true, but...A stubby, brown finger wagged in the air. "I also know that Wolfgang's never had chicken pox up 'til now."

Yes, yes, yes, _that_ was the point! Wolfgang—the meanest, grouchiest, most big-headed jerk ever to walk the sidewalks—had finally met his match in the form of something he couldn't beat up, let alone catch and throw in the trash can.

Short version: the dumb lug was beat...and the fourth-graders didn't even have to lift a finger. So why the _heck _was Arnold pitying him now, of all times?

Helga wished to know the exact same reason. She tossed her hands in the air in total exasperation at Arnold's continual need to shower his enemies with compassion (secretly, she loved that aspect of her beloved's personality, but right now it was just being a real nuisance). "Seriously, Football-Head...! The one time karma decides to be on our side and _now _you wanna feel sorry for the guy who practically spearheaded June 4th and got you and Tall-Hair Boy dunked in month-old gunk?"

At this long-winded rhetorical question, Arnold spread his hands out in a gesture of equal vexation, his expression displaying likewise. "Well, it just doesn't sound right to be happy that he's ill. Bully or not, chicken pox is never easy on anyone. Don't you two feel at least feel a _little_ concerned for Wolfgang?"

Two seconds of silence later..."No, not really." _'Sheesh already, Football Head, you know you're outnumbered here.'_

Milo, however, much to the girl's surprise, instead of siding with her, suddenly piped up, "Actually Helga, I think I can see where Arnold's coming from. I was _so _looking forward to seeing Mangebutt's face when I'd show off my swing. I've been practicing it for weeks, too!"

Arnold face palmed.

Helga slingshot a smirk Milo's way before returning her attention to the oblong-headed optimist. "Oh, by the way, Football Head, I came by to drop off another nice, little tidbit of news at your doorstep."

Both boys blinked at her for a while then shared a look before Arnold finally replied, "What news?"

"The squirt'll be hanging out at my house today."

* * *

An hour later...

"Alright, ground rules...No touching anything, no breaking anything, no breathing on anything... if you want a place to sit down to do your little doodles then try the floor. Nobody cares much about _that_ part of the house anyway." Helga was laying the law down and laying it down hard! Outside, she appeared large and in charge, but deep down, truth be told, the poor girl was sitting on pins and needles. There was no telling how Bob and Miriam would receive the kid...and with Olga visiting...

Brr...Helga would rather not think about that until the time came—if the time, all gods of humanity forbid, _ever_ came.

"And don't even think about going anywhere in my room! Comprende?"

Milo saluted her in a joking manner. _"S__í__, mi hermana mayor, no tocar__é__ nada. ¡ Demasiado amo mis __ó__rganos internales para hacer eso!" _**(1)**

That response earned him a long, blank stare from Helga...who eventually stuck a finger at the blue house. "Just get inside, wise guy."

Milo nodded and saluted her once more before following her lead. All Helga could think was, _'It's going to be a __**long**__ afternoon.'_

* * *

The first sight to pique Milo's interest turned out to be Miriam, unconscious (as usual) and drooping over the breakfast bar. "Need a morgue, by any chance?"

Helga, who had just taken the first step upstairs, paused to look back at Milo then at whatever had caught his attention. The blonde dismissively waved a hand. "Oh _that_...don't bother, kid, that lady'll be lucky enough to remember what _time period_ we're in when she awakes up."

As if on cue, the head of the drowsy woman suddenly shot up from counter with a surprised "huh." Her tired, blue eyes (somewhat) acknowledged the presence of the two children standing right outside the kitchen. "Oh hi, Helga, honey. When did you and Miley get home from school?"

'_My point proven...,'_ Helga commented in her mind as she rolled her eyes, too used to her mother's daily drunkenness to bat an eyelash at it anymore. She turned to Milo, who was staring at her, and thumbed to the upstairs.

"Well, come on already! I ain't got all day!"

* * *

All in all, Milo virtually had no idea how he'd expected Helga's room to appear. The moment his verdant eyes encompassed the boy's very first sight of the habitation, almost all of the boy's thoughts went out the window. _'I guess I was expecting a little pink, maybe a few hearts here and there...but man, this place feels so vacant!'_

The younger kid couldn't have been any closer to the truth. Aside from the bed, upon which sat a few dolls, a bookshelf occupied by books (duh), and a nightstand, this place possessed a rather Spartan quality. In all honesty, Milo at least figured Helga's room would have a personal computer—he'd figured wrong_. 'Her dad's the Beeper King, right? Either that guy is pretty stingy with the money or Helga...No, no, bad Milo, bad! Switch to something else...less personal topics.'_

Breaking out of his reverie, Milo scratched the back of his head as he looked up at his surrogate big sister. "So...any plans for us today...?"

The female blonde nearly set to respond...except she stopped. That question...was actually a good one. Helga, in all her scheming, actually never considered the need to grant this kid a diversion. She'd only assumed he was the type of person who could entertain himself for hours on end doing one single activity.

Hence the sketchbook in his hands...

The blonde shrugged her shoulders in casual dismissiveness. _'Eh, not a problem, there's gotta be something around here that can distract him. Long as it's out of and nowhere near 'forbidden territory,' dealing with this kid should be no sweat.'_

But first..._'It's time we had a little chat—the good old fashioned way!'_

Helga snapped her fingers, a wry smile on her face. "Actually, I _do_ have something in mind." She dashed to a stool that had been standing in one corner of the room and brought it into the center. With a firm look of authority, Helga pointed at Milo and then at the seat. "Sit on this stool."

Milo cocked his head like a baffled bird. "Sit on this stool...?" he chirped.

The female flaxen face palmed. "No, I mean the window sill so you can do a parrot impersonation and I can throw you crackers for being a good bird. _Yes_, I mean the stool!"

"Okay, sure," the dark-toned artist replied in a slightly curious voice before obeying.

All of a sudden, the lights went out, slightly surprising Milo rather than startling him as Helga had hoped. Before too long, a little illumination returned—in the form of a desk lamp Helga had just snatched off her desk and shined right in Milo's eyes. This time, the sepia-toned child did flinch but wasted no time in spotting a short figure emerging from a closet door he hadn't noticed before. The unknown figure meekly into the light to reveal...

"Phoebe...?"

The Asian girl waved in shy greeting in response to the perplexed boy's eyebrow-raising. "Um...hello, Milo."

'_When did she get here?'_ the interrogated wondered as he returned the gesture. Helga cut off the conversation by snapping her fingers once more. Phoebe immediately straightened up and pulled out from the pockets of her sweater two items: a pencil and a small notebook. Barely enough time Milo had to question about these articles of writing before he sensed a tall presence step in front of him. He saw Helga's shadow before he heard her straight-to-the-point voice.

"Alright, shrimp let's cut to the chase. You had the following item in question yesterday afternoon in school: a science textbook belonging to yours truly. Do you deny this?"

Milo shrugged his shoulders. Somehow, he had a feeling this chick would resort to such melodramatic measures, so he figured he might as well play along. "I don't see a reason to. Sounds pretty accurate..."

"And did you, under any circumstances, happen to open the textbook in question?" At this point, Helga began pacing back and forth, hands behind her back, never focusing on Milo yet never forgetting his presence either.

Realization sparked in Milo's pupils as the boy snapped his pudgy fingers. "Oh!_ In_side the textbook...! I get it. Don't worry; I never looked inside...although I did kind of surmise that _something_ had to be in there." He gestured his hands into a vague, open-ended prism shape to demonstrate his point. "When you shake the book a bit, you can almost hear a sort of faint rustling sound."

Impatient throat-clearing from a certain blonde sharply suggested his returning to the matter at hand...quickly; Milo did not disappoint in doing just that. "Right, sorry...Anyway, I never actually, really, literally looked _inside_ the book itself."

Helga seemed to lose a significant degree of her tension after that clear, honest answer, but her naturally defensive nature refused to accept it so easily. Everyone has a motivation or self-interest in something, even when they don't realize as such... and the Pataki girl believed deep down in her gut that this kid knew more than he was revealing to know.

She bent down onto one knee and eyed Milo as critically as a hawk would scrutinize its prey. "And how do I know that's _all_ you did with it?"

A look of mild offense crossed Milo's face. "Listen, _sister_, I meant what I said: I never peeked inside that book even once. And if I did, you would have seen me fidgeting. Believe it or not, I _do_ have a conscience."

Derisive scoffing constituted Helga's response to an answer she considered completely bogus. "Nice story, Sparky. I'll give it an 'A' for originality."

The glare in Milo's eyes lessened but remained bright as the boy calmly but resolutely asserted, "I'm being serious, Helga. Just like Arnold, I know when I'm in the wrong." _'Usually, at least...or when I feel like it...'_ he mentally added with some amusement.

That assurance only exacerbated Helga's reinforcement of her opinion. "News flash, kid, the world's already got enough do-gooders breathing down people's necks." She condescendingly crossed her arms and glared sideways into nothing. "Criminy," the blonde muttered, "you're as much as a wet blanket as Arnold—YEOW!" An unforeseen punch to the left shoulder immediately brought Helga's right hand to it as its owner gawked in numb shock at the displeasured, unamused, pint-sized culprit responsible. "What the—?"

Phoebe shot up from her stool and gasped, "Milo!"

The addressed paid no attention to the Oriental girl; his focus was too set on Helga. "Would a wet blanket do _that_? There's a _reason_ I hang out with the guy, Pigtails."

He did not just—that little punk did just not—Helga only remained in shock for one more second before regaining her scowl and jabbing an index finger into the boldly unmoving Milo's chest. She threateningly grumbled, "Try that again, and I swear..."

Her threat never saw the light the day. "Hey, Olga, get your little fanny down here already! Your sister's cooked dinner tonight!" the baritone voice of her father suddenly barked out, boorishly interrupting the blonde and her "interrogation."

She ran a hand down her face before drolly replying back with a forcibly compliant "Coming, Bob..." '_Fan-freaking-tastic...' _She tossed a glance to her best friend; at best, at least she wouldn't be alone to suffer this time...not that Phoebe should have anything to worry about—after all, Helga's family loved her, especially Olga. "Yo Pheebs, you're coming with?"

Phoebe tapped her fingers against each other meekly, momentarily forgetting the emotional altercation Big Bob had just, fortunately enough, inadvertently prevented...or at least delayed. "Well, actually, Helga, my parents _did_ advise that I stay over with you for a few nights. You see, they're on their way to a marriage retreat in Seattle and won't be back for a few weeks. My aunt is coming to take their place for the time being, but her arrival isn't to be expected until sometime Friday afternoon. So, yes, I would be happy to join you and your family for dinner!"

A certain artist, on the other hand, having sneaked onto the top of Helga's purple-blanketed bed during this exchange, sketchbook open in hands and about-to-be-opened pencil case to his right flank, flicked a two-fingered salute to the two older girls without so much as a glimpse in their direction. "Have fun, you two."

Helga would not have it. _'Oh no, no __**way**__ I'm leaving this squirt up here! The potential for a busted and fatally embarrassed lovesick nine-year old is too high with __**him**__ poking around unsupervised!'_

Unless...

The Pataki girl pondered to herself for a minute or two, her friend observing her all the while out of curiosity (and perhaps concern), before perking up from realization and donning a dark, sly grin on her rotund face. _'Oh, this is gonna be good.'_

'_This is __**not**__ going to be good,' _Phoebe oppositely thought to herself in dread. She perfectly anticipated Helga's next words before they were even uttered. The blonde had her long arms around her back, her falsetto grin matching her falsely syrupy tone of voice.

"Oh, we will, 'little bro.' Care to know why?"

Surprisingly enough, Milo was a step ahead of her. Head shooting up in mild alarm, his eyebrows scrunched up and his cherub face twisted in innocent defiance. "I don't want to go down there."

Unfortunately for him, dining with the insufferable Pataki clan would not be an option tonight. Helga dropped the grin for her typical scowl, her "true colors" shining through. "Well tough knubs, Sparky! Cause the only place _you're_ going _is_ down there." She thumbed her own chest. "If Helga G. Pataki's gotta suffer then so do you."

The brash bossy attitude did not deter Milo; in fact, it instead motivated him to take a stand for himself. The boy straightened his body and matched Helga glare for glare. "Not happening..."

Phoebe, being mediator in place of an absent Arnold, nimbly intercepted the staring contest by stepping in to be in between the two steel-willed contestants, her countenance a soft and hopeful smile and hands spread out in a sign of suggested companionship. "Actually, Milo, this would be the perfect opportunity to bond with Helga, and what better way than with her own family?"

At these words, Milo lost his scowl and his resolve waned enough to be show in his eyes.

Helga noticed and took advantage of it without a shred of hesitation. "And besides, you wouldn't want to disappoint the old Football Head, would you?" asked the blonde girl in a deceptively sincere voice, leaning towards the boy with her hands clasped behind her back. She bet all her poems—well, okay a few of poems...two...maybe one...that she had the twerp right where she wanted him, thanks to Pheebs!

Boy, she must've been dreaming. Milo thought so, as well. His bored, unimpressed stare stated nothing unlike. "Pretty sure Arnold wouldn't believe you, Helga..."

"Alright, then believe this...since you're in _my_ house, you follow _my_ orders and _my_ rules. Otherwise..." Ol'Betsy became a mat for the Five Avengers; they made quite a visual. Phoebe looked positively stricken.

Milo, on the other hand, remained as unfazed as ever. "Honestly, Helga, I've got a feeling in my gut that you won't actually hurt me. Just like how you never hurt Arnold."

Helga's smirk only became nastier. "Care to test that feeling?"

'_That's it. We're going absolutely __**nowhere**__ with this.' _Milo's hand gently batted Helga's fist away from his face, which had a rather distinctively wistfully fatigued expression on it. "Just don't expect me to enjoy dinner, alright?" Milo advised in begrudging compliance as he deposited his drawing book and pencil-case on the covers then hopped off the bed.

"Huh, that won't be a problem," his arms-crossing opponent-in-wills uttered under breath, even though Milo could still hear her just fine—she probably meant for him to hear her anyway. The dark-toned child ignored her all the same and sulkily walked past Helga and Phoebe, never bothering to notice the latter shooting a disapproving glare at the former, who merely raised her hands in frustrated confusion.

"What?"

* * *

**I realized I actually made this chapter far too long (at least for my liking) so I inserted the ending here. As for what happened after Milo allowed Helga into the room, that part is going to be added in the next chapter as a flashback for character development—just so you all know.**

**(1) Translation from Spanish: "Yes, big sister, I won't touch anything. I love my internal organs too much to do that."**


	8. Petulant Patakis

**Milo and all other characters and elements non-canon to Hey Arnold belong to me. Any characters and elements canon to Hey Arnold belong to Craig Bartlett and Nickelodeon.**

* * *

"Hey...Phoebe...?"

The bespectacled brainiac switched her focus from the furiously stomping Helga a few steps below to the younger boy walking alongside her as the trio of fourth-graders traversed down the stairs. "Yes, Milo...?"

"Why is Helga acting so...different?" the mechanic-skilled artist stole a glance at the pigtailed girl during this whispered, baffled-sounding inquiry.

Phoebe was at a total lost. "What do you mean?"

Milo shrugged his shoulders, a little bummed at having his question answered with a question, especially by Phoebe, the smartest kid of the whole school.

"Her attitude's a total heel face turn from how she was yesterday, especially from when she hung out with me and my family..."

"How did she act then?"

Milo couldn't quite blame Phoebe for sounding so confused this time; after all, she, for all her handy intelligence, never witnessed her best friend's "family-time" with the Mahana family.

The young sepia-toned child, still making sure to keep his voice low, gestured a finger inward to signal the slightly taller girl to bend down as they continued their mini-journey. Phoebe did not disappoint.

"This is how it went..."

* * *

_"So how's our favorite, little Football-Head been?"_

_"Huh," Helga mumbled in momentary blankness. Right now, she, Bonnie, Milo, and Mr. Hyunh were seated on their haunches in the center of the Mahana room, huddled around a Parcheesi board. Contrary to what she'd told her "little brother", Helga herself had no current intentions of playing; she only agreed to join in order to use the excuse of spectating throughout the game as a means of evading a certain football-head's doppelganger. _

_The Pataki girl had to admit, though; this game appeared to be very interesting to play at the very least, albeit rather complex. _

_Oh wait! Milo's Mom was still expecting an answer. Helga waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, uh...Yeah, yeah, you know the usual, Ms. Mahana—I mean—Bonnie...same do-gooder optimist as usual."_

_"And dis 'program'...how long it will be lasting?" Hyunh didn't ask the question in a way that signified annoyance, as Helga initially believed; the man only wished to know out of pure curiosity. Man, this guy was nearly the same way when he interrogated Helga during that whole "forbidden cassette" episode. Helga knew adults could be noisy at times, but sheesh!_

_Nevertheless, figuring she at least owed the guy a straight answer—and thanking God that he didn't ask her anything Campfire-Lass or telephone-related—the blonde shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. "Beats the heck outta me; I'm only in this cuz my sister pretty much roped me into it."_

_Bonnie looked up from the board to fix an interested stare on Helga. "You mean Olga, right?"_

_Helga almost fell back into her defensive mechanisms by instinct, her mouth half-opened to tell the lady to mind her own business. Luckily, her mind stopped her just in the nick of time by reminding her why badmouthing Bonnie off would be a very bad (and possibly suicidal) idea. This chick could take on Arnold's Grandma in karate without any help at all (and Helga had already seen before how proficient the elderly lady's skills were). _

_And even an idiot could tell how protective Bonnie was of her son._

_Hastily throwing back on her masking façade of ennui, the Pataki girl rolled her eyes in expertly feigned exasperation. "Yep; criminy, I swear...the things that chick can tempt me into doing to her." **'Like changing her grade A-plus to a B—oh man, does that woman hold herself on a pedestal or what?' **_

_Even though humor incited this thought, Helga felt a strange twinge of sympathy for her older sibling. Not matter how many times Big Bob hounded Helga to be just like her older sister or how Miriam rarely attempted to give her the time of day...Helga could never bring herself to honestly say she wanted what Olga had._

_Once upon a time maybe...but now..._

_Milo, not a mind-reader in spite of his precocious nature (thank goodness), merely commented to Helga's earlier exaggeration in an upbeat tone, "Oh, you mean like murder!"_

_Helga went drop-dead silent at that...not that she didn't have a good reason to. Whoa, Olga drove her nuts most of the time, sure...but she didn't drive her **that **nuts! Plus, the peppy, almost Lila-like way Milo just blurted the statement out unsettled Helga to no end. Man, this kid was having a stronger effect on her than Evil Twins!_

_Before the blonde could muster up a decent response, though, Mr. Hyunh (who strangely enough, along with Bonnie, never flinched or even batted an eye at Milo's strange comparison—much to Helga's growing sense of "weirded-out"-ness) suddenly groaned in full-scale annoyance, apparently at the fact that Milo just managed to get the one-up on him in the game._

_"H-How did you—"_

_Milo merely winked and smirked in the man's direction. "You just weren't watching your back, old man."_

_Unfortunately, for the boy, Lady Luck no longer smiled down on him either according to Bonnie's smirk and her triumphant, "Just as you weren't watching your own, kiddo—got'cha!"_

_This exclamation caused Milo to take a startled double-take at the pieces, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Wait...what?! No way!"_

_"Yes, way...I win."_

_Helga shot half of her monobrow up at Bonnie's move, the blonde visibly impressed in spite of her still limited knowledge of the game. **'Wow, she's pretty good at this.' **_

_Really good, as a matter of fact...seriously, Helga was actually having second thoughts about joining in for the next game. The reason wasn't cowardice, mind you; Helga G. Pataki had many faults, but being a chicken was not one of them. _

_She'd been paying attention for the majority of the time yet, no matter how the blonde turned the rules around in her head, all her mind came up with was a total, if not complete, blank. The fact that Milo, Bonnie, and Mr. Hyunh had been tossing questions to her during the latter half of the game didn't quite help either. One would almost think these three people did that to her on purpose._

_Helga's stupor of awe severed from the moan of satisfaction Mr. Hyunh received from the lithe stretch he administered to his back. "Oh, dinner should be ready soon, yes?"_

_Bonnie nodded in affirmation as she uncrossed her legs then stood up. "Yeah; in fact, that dinner bell should going off right about..."_

**_RING! RING! RING!_**

_"Bingo!" Bonnie's son, pumping a fist into the air, timely chirped. He and Helga, too, stood up from their positions from the floor and loosened their legs up to restore some lost circulation. **'Right on time as always...'**_

_Meanwhile, Bonnie, as she shook her head at her son's behavior, stood up from the floor as well and donned her dark blue jacket, which had been lying next to her during the whole game, over her red T-shirt. Helga narrowed her eyes slightly at the odd and (at least in the blonde's opinion) seemingly pointless addition of clothing. "What's with the jacket?"_

_The mother hummed in slight interest before widening her eyes and nodding her head in understanding. "Oh, just in case I wanna add a little more kick to the food." She needed **something** to hold her spices—well, the ones Mr. Hyunh made for her anyway._

_Her son, who knew this reason, too, but preferred to not suffer his parent's wrath, rolled his eyes in a sarcastic manner. "Yeah, because we all know how much she loves the taste of jacket."_

_Bonnie wagged a finger at the boy in a playfully reproachful manner. "Watch it, kiddo."_

_Nobody noticed Helga huff a genuine smile—a faint smile, but a genuine one all the same._

* * *

Phoebe silently giggled at the story.

For a few moments, Milo joined in on the soft laughter...only for his shoulders and mouth to sag in sad confusion shortly after the mirth wore off. "But now she acts as if I'm an enemy spy or renegade." He narrowed his eyes pensively. "Don't get me wrong. I know I'm a little weird and like a little trouble every now and then...but that doesn't mean I want Helga to have a hard time."

His verdant eyes returned to Phoebe. "From what I can guess from what she never says about her family, I can only guess her folks give her difficulties enough."

Sudden, faint blushes on Phoebe's cheeks compensated for the brainiac's lack of words. She honestly never expected the younger boy's guess to be so spot-on.

Milo's eyes undid their squinted state, but his frown still remained. "Is she afraid of what I might say or do?"

The bespectacled girl merely shook her head in empathy, both for Helga and for Milo. _'I was afraid we'd eventually come to this topic.'_ "Oh Milo...I'm sorry Helga's acting like this in front of you. It's just...her relationship with her family is not what one could call...'stable'."

Oh boy, somehow, Milo just knew he wouldn't like what he was about to hear—and eventually see. "How 'not stable' are we talking here?"

* * *

"Oh Helga, your new little brother is so cute!"

And cue Olga in all her overdone pep and cheer. The woman looked ready to pinch the poor kid's cheeks.

At least Milo had the decency to express a bit of discomfiture at the older girl's obviously forced positivity—and reel his head back as humanly possible. "Uh...thanks?"

Helga, on the other hand, hardly noticed at all. She was too busy contemplating whether to keep quiet and tough dinner out—or start a miniature food fight so Bob could chew her out later and then send her to her room. _'Ah please...'_

"So, Miles, you and Helga know each other...from school?" Even though Miriam asked that question with a semblance of consciousness and interest, Helga knew darn well this conversation was taking the woman all her strength and willpower to remain awake and sober.

"You could say that," were the only words an out-of-place Milo could use as a response.

Believe or not, Helga felt kind of sorry for the kid in spite of earlier inklings of hostility towards his possibly knowing her secret. In fact, the only other regret Helga had besides her chagrin at her own parents' typical accolades to Olga was that Phoebe and even Milo, much less somebody else, had to see her family life firsthand, much less be subjected to the Pataki family's misguided third-degree scrutiny.

Bob (finally) looked up from his gorging to address Milo for the first time since dinner began. "That's good. Olga here went into a program like that herself last month. Got herself a nice little sister, too... Uh...Lolly, I think her name was..."

"Are you referring to Lila by any chance, Mr. Pataki?" the addressed piped up in a rather unimpressed tone of voice. He couldn't help but wonder if Bob was just too oblivious for his own good. _'Either that or too sure of everything...'_

"Yeah that kid..."

Still making somewhat of an attempt to be friendly, Milo half-heartedly answered, "Oh yeah, Lila...she told me all about that "Big Sis, Little Sis" stuff...she said she really enjoyed it."

"Yeah right, anyway," Bob suddenly waved a hand dismissively at the boy's words before continuing, "it's good that the girl got you as a little brother. She could use another sharp cookie like you."

Milo simply furrowed his eyebrows in annoyance; the kid did not appreciate Mr. Pataki's lack of listening skills. "Uh, right..."

Helga could almost pound the fork in her hand into her skull! It was the Olga/Lila episode all over again! Only difference now was that Helga, as well as Phoebe, was the one in the middle of it!

_'Steady, old girl, just a few more minutes of this...a few more minutes...'_

"Hey...Helga..."

She acknowledged him with a bored glare. Hey, just because she pitied the kid didn't mean she had to act like his rock. He already had a parent back home for that. Lucky kid...

"I need some way to get rid of this." The kid discreetly nudged his plate of food a bit in Helga's direction; the pigtailed girl caught on to the message in seconds, but couldn't help smirking as a result.

"Why? ...Olga's fancy gourmet cooking not up to your standards?" she whispered.

"Way too _above_ my standards is how _I'd_ put it. Most of the food she's cooking is too rich for me. I'm too used to the kind of cooking that Arnold's Grandma makes anyway."

Well, here was a shocker! Usually, Little Miss Perfect's cooking received nothing but appraisal, although then again, Miriam and Bob, at least as far as Helga knew, had been the only people from whom golden girl had actually heard most of those commendations. Still, the fact that somebody found Olga's food unsatisfactory, even if that somebody was a little kid, sent a spark of both amusement and relief in Helga.

_'Finally, somebody Miss Perfect can't impress! Oh pinch me, I must be dreaming!'_ Heck, she was practically doing somersaults in her own head!

Milo's thoughts, in contrast, were slightly more sympathizing. _'As much as I'd rather not upset Olga, I'd also prefer to avoid upsetting my stomach. The last thing anyone around here needs is projectile-vomiting...even if the idea of me doing that **does **sound pretty cool...'_

"Hey, you two, if ya done flapping your gums over there, Olga's got a story here that oughta inspire every single one of ya."

Ugh.

Helga did a face-palm. She already knew Bob's intended direction after that statement—if she only she had a sedative for herself, _'Oh brother...'_

Milo was thinking more along the lines of, _'Inspire us? What does he think Olga is: a preacher?'_

"Oh daddy, the most wonderful thing happened while I'd been in Alaska last month..."

* * *

_After dinner_

Thank all gods conceived throughout the course of humanity _that _embarrassing experience was over! Now Milo didn't have any other reason to hang around Helga anymore! Thank goodness!

But not for the reasons most people who thinkthey know Helga would assume...emphasis on 'think'...

_'Okay, so I wasn't lying to Arnold when I said I like the little shrimp. Heck, he's been pretty cool about everything—even the textbook. Okay, so he has his moments of annoying, but then again look at my family; they're Irritation Central. Plus, he's creative, if that doodle book of his is anything to go by...it's just...'_

She just couldn't take the idea of associating someone of Milo's precocious and witty demeanor with her own family, especially Big Bob. There was a very good reason Helga was thankful Milo didn't take his sketchbook down with him. Bob wasn't exactly the understanding type.

"Is something up Helga?"

The Pataki girl shot her sight to Milo then scoffed. "What? Me? Pft, please; welp, anyway, now that dinner's all set and over with, it's about high time you hit the road, Sparky!"

Yes siree, Helga turned away to walk to the front door, ready to have the kid bid a fond farewell to the Pataki household...at least until the shrimp pulled her back by grabbing onto one of her wrists. "Wait!"

_'What the—?'_ Helga wrenched out of the smaller kid's grasp with a look of clear irritation. "Oh for the love—**what now**?"

Phoebe, who'd been silent throughout the whole dinner and up until now, put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Did you forget something, Milo?"

"Yeah, I did," the artist replied before looking back at Helga. "Could I at least go get my sketchbook back from your room, Helga? I left it behind when...," he paused a bit as if in deep thought but quickly snapped his fingers in mock realization, "hmm...oh yeah, when you dragged everybody down to dinner, remember?"

"Alright, fine...," Helga permitted in a rather snide tone of voice, the backs of her hands akimbo, "...BUT I'm coming up with you, just in case that peewee head of yours gets any bright ideas."

Milo merely shrugged; he'd already gotten used to his big sister's sharp quips, "Eh, whatever blows up your skirt..."

* * *

The journey up to Helga's room then back to the front door hadn't been noteworthy in any sense: the kids walked up the stairs, Milo found his sketchbook and drawing supplies...

And now he, Helga, and Phoebe were seated together on the front steps of the Pataki residence, their spot illuminated in translucent yellow by the porch-light looming directly overhead. Right now, the kids were awaiting the arrival of one of the adults of the boardinghouse. Right after the very interesting Australian-styled dinner yesterday, Helga notified Bonnie of the proper time to pick Milo up.

However, due to double overtime extorted upon her by her boss, Bonnie wouldn't be able to leave the library today until midnight. Because of this complication, Milo would have to depend on someone else to bring him home.

Not that he was complaining—heck, he didn't feel bummed out at all, in fact. It just meant extra time and, thus, more chances to probe into the story that is Helga G. Pataki. _'But I can't just pierce into the big question...not yet...'_

He definitely needed to pierce this silence with an icebreaker, though. "I can't really say I like your Dad so much, Helga."

The addressed, who'd been leaning back on her hands, scoffed amusedly at this statement. "Tch, welcome to the club, Sparky...I've had ta deal with the Beeper King for about two-thirds of my young life."

Milo had the decency to cringe. "Ouch..."

Helga nodded in grim agreement. "Exactly, welcome to the life of Helga G. Pataki."

The cringe vanished from Milo's face and was soon replaced by a reflective expression. "It's not all bad."

His assertion incited Helga to peg him with a stare of bafflement. "Excuse me?"

"Really, it's not all bad! So your family is screwed up. Lots of kids could relate to that. But you also got a really good friend right next to you."

Phoebe blushed once she realized who the smaller boy was referring to. "Oh!"

Her exclamation was met by a heartfelt smirk from Milo. "Yeah, that's right, girl in blue, I'm looking right at you!"

Then he looked back at Helga, his smile withstanding. "And you also got a possible second ally: me!"

Wow...Helga never really bothered to view the little squirt that way. Now that she did, though..._'Huh...I guess that **is** kinda good.'_

Thanks to this musing, Helga allowed herself to show Milo an actual smile, although she was quick to mask it with her trademark sarcasm. "Oh joy, just what the two of us need, Pheebs: a pint-sized Picasso armed to the teeth with graphite pencils and amorphous erasers."

Her comment activated the gears in Milo's head, making the boy perk in sudden remembrance. "Say, now that you mention my art supplies, Helga, you just reminded me. I never showed you girls my sketches, have I?"

Phoebe likewise brightened up; that question ignited her curiosity and now the girl hadn't the heart to keep herself from wondering. "Why...no...As a matter of fact, Milo, you never did."

"Eh, what the heck, we've nothing better to do out here," Helga shrugged her shoulders, figuring she and Pheebs had nothing to lose. Besides, it's not like the kid's drawings would be unlike any other scribbly drawing they and the rest of the gang did themselves when they were Milo's age.

Her little brother smiled as he opened his sketchbook to a random page.

"Okay...Ah ha, here's a good one."

* * *

**Well, Milo's survived his first night at the Pataki household. Will the day after tomorrow be just as smooth—and what about tomorrow itself? And what is this big question that Milo's holding off on?**

**I wanted to focus on Helga's beginning relationship with Bonnie and Mr. Hyunh since they'll be two of the characters interacting with Helga frequently. That's why I focused on the board game instead of the actual dinner. **


End file.
